Dragon Quest VIII: Kingdom of the Elves
by Amisha N. Smith
Summary: This fanfic is a direct sequel from Dragon Quest VIII. It's an epic quest starring Marcello, my favorite character from the game. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Dragon Quest VIII  
Kingdom of the Elves**

by: Amisha N. Smith

_Okay, before I start this fanfic, lemme ask you a question. Have any of you reading this played Dragon Quest VIII yet? If not, then may I suggest you stop reading this and go out and buy it now? This is a direct sequel fanfiction piece, which of course means that it's chock full of spoilers. You've been warned. However, if you have played the game, or if you simply don't give a damn about spoilers, then by all means, read away. By the way, if you're not among the lucky people that have already experienced the game, you should do so as soon as possible simply for the fact that the game kicks freakin' ass. Seriously. I once thought Final Fantasy VII was the greatest RPG ever, but then I played Dragon Quest VIII. Yes, it's that good. So, let's begin this story already, which so happens to star my favorite character from the game. Whom, you ask? Well, read on and find out. Now, with no further delay, let's begin… _

**Prologue**

Marcello doubled over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily and cursing his lousy luck. He knew he was in big trouble. He was exhausted from running up the winding stairs of the humongous stone tower of the port of Peregrin Quay as fast as he possibly could. Mainly because at that moment he was being closely pursued by a few old "friends".

"Give it up, Marcello! We've got you cornered!", he heard one of his pursuers yell from a few feet below. Marcello turned and sneered at the Templar Knights that were running up the stairs behind him, quickly closing the gap between himself and them. "So, I see that Rolo's dogs have finally caught up with me", he said with a smirk as the Templars drew near. "I guess this is it. The end of the line for me. Oh, what_ever_ am I going to do?" The Templars stopped just four feet away from Marcello and drew their swords.

"There's nowhere you can run, Marcello", the Templar in the lead warned his quarry. "Give yourself up now. If you do not resist, you will not be harmed." Marcello's smirk turned into a confident and chilly grin as he noticed that the lead Templar's voice was shaking ever so slightly. He also noticed that even though they outnumbered him five to one, each one of them faced him with a nervous look that even bordered on fear. That's because they knew exactly whom they were facing; Marcello, the famed ex-Captain of the Templar Knights. And even though he no longer wore the trademark blue suit of the Templars, having replaced it with a totally black suit that matched his gloves and boots over which he wore a long, flowing black coat, it was a safe bet that he was probably still arguably the best swordsman in the known world. Marcello stretched his limbs and brought his hand up to his mouth, yawning lazily. He then folded his arms and looked down at his antagonists with an air of superiority.

"Okay, I'll tell you what", Marcello said, his confident smirk still on his face. "I'm not totally bereft of pity for you fools, so here's what I'll do. If you give up now, turn tail, and run like the pathetic dogs you are, I promise I'll let you go with your worthless lives." And with a flash that was quicker than lightning the lead Templar was stunned and terrified as suddenly the tip of Marcello's rapier was pressed against his Adam's apple, drawing a tiny stream of blood. "However", Marcello continued in a dark voice, "if you continue in your ridiculous quest to 'capture' me, I shall have no other choice but to use my sword to send you fools straight to the arms of your precious goddess."

"Well, it's nice to see the past year hasn't _changed_ you, brother", Marcello heard a familiar voice say behind him. He whirled around to face his younger brother Angelo standing above him at the top of the stairs right at the opening to the large look-out balcony at the very top of the tower.

"**You!"**, Marcello snarled, already full of rage at the sight of his sibling. "What are _you_ doing here?" The lead Templar Knight saw this distraction as a chance to take Marcello down and, brandishing his sword, leaped forward. But Marcello had not forgotten about the annoying grunts behind him. Without even turning around, he simply waved his hand and the foolish Templar that made a move for him was instantly blown backwards by a surprisingly powerful kaswoosh spell. The strong wind slammed him into his fellow Templars behind him and they all tumbled backwards, rolling down the long stairway. Marcello didn't even bother to look back at them, he was too busy eyeing his brother with sheer hatred. "I'll ask you again; What the _hell_ are you doing here? What do you want from me?", he yelled at Angelo.

"Well, it's wonderful to see you too, Marcello", Angelo replied in his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor. "I hear you've been… _busy_ lately. Rumor has it that your swordsmanship and sorcery skills have grown exceedingly powerful in a very short time. Rumor also has it that your magic has grown so powerful that you were able to kill Lord Absom, the leader of the Blood Shadow, without breaking so much as a sweat. Is this true?"

Marcello narrowed his eyes and looked at Angelo. _What business it that of his?_, he thought suspiciously. Indeed, since he had denounced his position as Templar Captain a year ago and disappeared to journey in solitude, he had been honing his skills with the blade and magic to practical perfection. He learned a lot from his mistakes a year ago when he had battled Angelo and his meddlesome friends on the holy Isle of Neos. He knew if he was going to see his dream through to success, he would have to be as powerful as humanly possible, and _then_ some. He had grown so powerful that about a month ago it had attracted the attention of a very powerful and very feared magician. Lord Absom, a seriously dedicated sorcerer of the black arts. He was also the leader of the Blood Shadow, a gang of wizards whose hideout was surmised to be somewhere to the south of the western continent. They were really nothing more than a band of thugs and pirates with magical powers, using sorceries to rob people and scare towns into paying them protection money. They also occasionally recruited people that they felt were adequately gifted with magic into their gang, sometimes forcefully. Marcello recalled how he had met Absom about three weeks ago. That day he was sitting alone on a sandy beach, calmly watching the sun set and sorting out his thoughts, when he was suddenly hit from behind by a bang spell. The sneak attack pushed Marcello forward and he slid on his face in the sand for about one foot and a half. He then got up, drew his sword, and swiftly turned to face whoever was behind him, ready to put a serious hurt on the idiot that was foolish enough to mess with him. It was then that he first laid eyes on Absom. The arrogant black wizard's arms were folded and his shoulders were shaking with laughter. He first boasted to the enraged ex-Templar Captain that he didn't look so tough and that he could probably murder him with a simple wave of his pinky finger. He then challenged Marcello with an ultimatum: Either face him in a fight to the death, or join the Blood Shadow gang. Marcello didn't have to think about what his answer would be. He was not interested in joining any gang, and he was already pissed off at this guy. Marcello flew at Absom, and they fought viciously on that beach all through the hours of the night. Marcello remembered how, at the break of dawn, he walked triumphantly away from the battlefield, leaving Absom's broken body on the beach for the birds to feast on. He also remembered how quickly the word had spread far and wide that Blood Shadow was now mourning the death of their leader and had sworn an oath of vengeance against Marcello for killing him.

"It's true, isn't it?", Angelo asked in a soft voice, breaking through his thoughts. "You killed Absom, didn't you?"

Marcello sneered at Angelo. "So what if I did?", he asked contemptuously. "Is that the reason that fat pig Rolo had wanted posters for me put up in nearly every town? I didn't know the priesthood was supposed to care so much about the fate of a crooked sorcerer." He then smirked and looked his brother up and down. "And I certainly didn't expect to see you here doing his dirty work. Don't tell me the Lord High Priest is holding _your_ leash as well? I didn't think that was your style."

"One would have to be seriously powerful in order to be able to destroy a wizard like Absom", Angelo said in a solemn voice. "Rolo is quite concerned about what you plan to do with the power you've accumulated. And to be quite frank, brother, so am I."

"Ah, I see. So he's _afraid_ of me, is that it?", Marcello said, stroking his chin and grinning a dark and thoughtful grin. He then threw his head back and laughed maniacally. "Oh, this is _rich_!", he roared. "So _that's_ why that oversized joke of a priest put out a reward for my capture. He's hoping to use the Templars to take me down before I can use my newfound power to do the same to him." He waved his hand at Angelo in one sweeping motion and Angelo was suddenly knocked upwards and backwards by an unseen force. "Ooof!", Angelo barked, feeling as if someone had just kicked him in his stomach at full force. He flew outside into the air and landed hard on his backside onto the cold cement ground of the tower's look-out balcony.

"Urgh", Angelo grunted in pain as he rolled to his side, trying to get back on his feet. His instincts suddenly set off an alarm inside his head, telling him he should move _now_. He swiftly got his feet back under him and leaped forward just in time to avoid being skewered in his head by Marcello's rapier. Angelo drew his own rapier and whirled about to face his older brother, ready to fight the dreaded battle he knew had been inevitable since the second he and Marcello were reunited. Marcello stood five feet in front of him holding his rapier at his side, a cold and evil smile on his face. There was death in his eyes.

"It doesn't have to be this way", Angelo made one last heartfelt plea that he knew was hopeless. "Please, Marcello, let me help you."

"_Help_ me?", Marcello replied, raising one eyebrow. "And how exactly would you be 'helping' me, hmm? By convincing me to exchange all the power I've attained this past year for a prison cell in New Purgatory Island? By getting me to relinquish all my hopes for making my lifelong dream come true?" He sneered and shook his head. "No thanks, brother. I can do badly all on my own. I don't need your 'help'."

"'Dream'? What dream? What are you talking about?", Angelo asked him.

"You know, that really shouldn't matter to you", Marcello answered. "You will be dead long before my plans come to fruition." Marcello held his rapier up and took on a battle stance. "Now, let's get this over with, shall we?", he said in a voice that matched his deadly intentions.

Angelo took on a battle stance of his own, trying his best to ignore the heaviness in his heart. He'd prayed to the Goddess that it wouldn't come to this, but no such luck. Thunder rumbled angrily in the distance as both brothers faced each other in a silent stand-off, prepared to fight each other to the death. Then, without warning, Marcello leaped forward. Angelo did the same, and sword clashed sword as the two men met in the middle. Angelo was quite alarmed to see that Marcello's swordsmanship skills _have_ indeed improved substantially. His speed was incredible. He seemed to be slashing in one spot and jabbing in another at the same time. The movements of his arm were so fast it literally looked like a blur. At one instant, Marcello made a move that was like two slashes to the left and the right practically at the same time, and Angelo winced as the sharp, stinging pain followed by a feeling of warmth on his chest told him that Marcello had just drawn first blood in this battle. Angelo leaped backwards and out of the fray.

"Urgh", Angelo groaned as he clutched the stinging wound on his chest.

"Aw, what's the matter, little bro?", Marcello taunted with a chuckle. "Am I going too fast for you?"

"Don't get cocky yet, Marcello", Angelo growled as he eyed Marcello with contempt. Now he was pissed off. "This fight is far from over." He jumped forward and rushed Marcello, hoping to duck at the last minute and use his rapier to sweep Marcello off his feet. But his brother proved to be too quick for such a tactic to work on him. Marcello surprised Angelo by merely sidestepping, snatching his rapier out of his hand as he flew past, and booting him in his rear end at the last instant. Angelo came crashing face-down on the ground, instantly aware of the dire situation he was now in. Now, not only was he out-matched, but unarmed as well. He turned over on his back and started crawling backwards when he saw Marcello slowly advancing, a rapier in each hand and dark glee in his eyes.

"Now, what was that you said earlier about the fight being 'far from over'?", Marcello gloated triumphantly. "Looks more to me like the fight was over before it even began."

"Oh, _spare_ me", Angelo said defiantly with a smirk. "If you're going to kill me, go ahead and do it. Just don't force me to have to listen to your endless jaw melody."

Marcello just grinned and shook his head. "Still the same ol' cocky, idiotic jackass you always were, even to the end", he replied. He walked up to Angelo and put the blades of both rapiers in a criss-cross scissor formation against his neck. More thunder rumbled from the clouds above them, as if the very heavens were distressed by what they were seeing. "I'll give you a few seconds to pray to your precious goddess that she may have mercy on your soul in the afterlife", Marcello said evilly.

"Thank you, brother", Angelo said solemnly. "But I shall instead pray that she has mercy on _your_ soul rather than mine. Seeing as how you're about to become a murderer with your own brother's blood on your hands, you'll definitely need it more than I."

Marcello simply sneered in reply. "I'm touched", he said sarcastically. "But, really, don't bother. You see, I've been an atheist since the day I was born." His grin widened as he prepared to do the unthinkable. "And now, farewell Angelo", he said with finality. "May your next life grace you with a little more luck, and a _lot_ more wisdom."

"Hold it _right there_, you big jerk!", yelled a voice from nowhere. Marcello's head snapped up and he looked to the left and the right, wondering where that voice came from. "What the _hell_…? Who said that?", Marcello snapped.

As if on cue, a large purple balloon began to ascend above the edge of the balcony in front of Marcello. The ex-Templar Captain released Angelo from his grip and began slowly backing away, readying himself for anything. As the balloon rose higher, Marcello could see that something below it was attached to it by metal wires. _What the hell is this?_, he thought to himself. Then, as the balloon finished it's ascent, Marcello raised an eyebrow as he beheld quite an unusual sight. Attached below the balloon by the wires was a large, wide sort of basket. Inside it was a thin, brown-haired little boy that looked to be about twelve years old. He was wearing glasses and a patched-up mini blue suit that somewhat resembled a Templar's uniform. A small, wooden sword hung at his belt. Over the edge of the balloon he was aiming something that resembled a small cannon right at Marcello.

"Cease your treachery, foul villain!", the boy yelled defiantly at Marcello. "Lay down your arms and surrender at once, or face the unleashed wrath of…"

"_Ebert!"_, Angelo yelled, surprise and anger in his voice. "What the…? I can't believe…! What on earth are you _doing_ here?"

"Watching your back, Abbot Angelo!", the boy replied proudly. "It's a good thing I got here, too. That guy was about to skewer you! Oh, and next time, do you mind not stepping on my entrance lines? At least let _me_ have the pleasure of introducing myself to the bad guy! _Sheesh!_"

Angelo's mouth hung open as he just looked at Ebert, so angry he couldn't even speak. Ever since the small orphaned boy had arrived at Maella Abbey after his parents' deaths half a year ago, he had time and time again demonstrated how much of a technological genius he was by building dozens of machines from scratch, some of them big, some of them small, _all_ of them quite impressive. The Cloud Skipper, the machine that he was now hovering over the tower of Peregrin Quay in, was the latest one. Right now, as he watched Ebert merrily putting himself in more danger than he could possibly know, Angelo wished he'd followed his instincts when Ebert proudly presented the machine to him months ago and had the thing immediately dismantled.

"And now, it's time for you to face justice, criminal!", Ebert yelled, pointing at Marcello. "You can either come along in peace or in pieces! But make no mistake, you _will_ resign yourself over to the Templars, one way or the other!"

"Ebert, get out of here!", Angelo yelled. "This is not a game! Don't you realize the danger you're in?"

"Enough", Marcello interrupted in an annoyed voice. He waved his arm in a low, sweeping motion and Angelo's body was suddenly pushed downwards by the same powerful, invisible force Marcello had assaulted him with earlier. "Ungh", Angelo said as the back of his head slammed hard onto the ground. Angelo tried to struggle against Marcello's dark magic and was surprised and dismayed when he realized he couldn't move an inch.

"Urgghhh! What… what have you… _done_ to me, Marcello?", Angelo managed to stammer as he tried furiously to free himself from the magic power that was paralyzing him. Marcello didn't respond. He simply started slowly advancing towards Angelo. "Listen boy", Marcello addressed Ebert without taking his eyes off of his brother, "You would do well to leave while you can. I'm about to finish this fool once and for all, and if you try to get in my way, you will suffer the same fate." Marcello pulled his hand back and a large fireball started to form in his palm as he prepared to roast Angelo with a frizzle attack. Thunder crackled wrathfully from the dark-gray couds in the distance.

"Okay, that's _it_!", Ebert yelled, aiming his small cannon-like chute at Marcello. "I gave you a chance to give up peaceably, but you wanna do things the _hard_ way! Well fine, so be it! Now **take this!**" Ebert pushed a button on the side of his tiny cannon and something that looked like a small bag flew out of it's chute and hit Marcello square in his face.

"Gah!", Marcello cried as he brought his hand up to his eyes. The front of his face was covered in an ashy residue. "What is this? It's… burning my eyes!" His other hand accidentally released the frizz spell and the fireball flew straight towards the Cloud Skipper. "Yikes!", Ebert exclaimed, realizing that he was now just a second away from being cremated alive. He wasted no time in jumping from the Cloud Skipper to the balcony of the tower right beside Angelo… just an instant before his beloved flying machine was hit by the fireball and combusted in the air. "Aw _man_! The Cloud Skipper's toast!", Ebert whined as he watched the flaming debris that was once his greatest invention zoom uncontrollably into the clouds in the distance. He turned to angrily face Marcello, who was still coughing and rubbing at his eyes. "You'll pay for that, heathen!", he yelled, drawing his wooden sword. It was at that moment Angelo realized he had regained his ability to move. He immediately made it to his feet and rushed over to stand protectively at Ebert's side. He knew that Marcello was sure to be pissed off by Ebert's meddling and would probably try to kill the both of them now. And sure enough, after Marcello had finally wiped the rest of his face clean of the filthy, ash-like dirt that was burning his eyes, he glared at both Angelo and Ebert with a look that could only be described as hatred unbridled.

"How'd you like the taste of my pepper bomb, loser?" Ebert gloated as he stuck out his tongue.

"Ebert, shut up", Angelo snapped, not taking his eyes off Marcello. "Let me handle this."

Marcello, his face contorted with rage, pointed his hand at the both of them and started to mumble what sounded like an incantation. His eyes were glowing with a black light. Angelo, horrified, knew exactly what Marcello was about to do. He was about to cast Thwack, a deadly curse that instantly kills a group of targets.

"Marcello, _no_!", Angelo yelled desperately. "He's only a boy! For once in your life, have some compassion!"

"I am far beyond the point of having compassion for you _or_ that idiotic brat", Marcello snarled. "Now prepare to d… _What?_" Marcello stopped in mid-sentence as he looked above, most alarmed at what he saw. The flaming remains of the balloon the boy was flying in was now doing a twisting, tail-spin dive… straight in his direction. Marcello turned and tried to leap away. He was too late. The flaming debris slammed into the ground beside him and exploded. The force of the combustion hit him hard and threw him high into the air. By the time he came crashing down on his side, he was already unconscious.

* * *

"_Marcello!"_, Angelo yelled, running to his brother's side. He knelt down and lifted Marcello's head, examining him. He was completely out for the count and the side of his forehead was bleeding, but other than that there didn't seem to be any permanent injuries. "Oh, thank the Goddess", Angelo said, breathing a sigh of relief. It was at that instant the other five Templars Marcello had dispatched of earlier came running out onto the balcony. 

"Abbot! Sir, are you alright?", the lead Templar asked Angelo. "What was that explosion? What happened?"

"What _happened_?", Ebert suddenly interrupted, pushing his way past the Templars to stand beside Angelo. "_I'll_ tell you what happened! You just missed watching me kick some serious boo-tay, that's all! I took down Marcello all by myself! Yep, sure did! If you don't believe me, you can ask the Abbot! Go ahead, ask him!"

"Ebert! What are _you_ doing here?", one of the Templar guards asked the boy.

"What he _always_ does", Angelo said angrily as he looked sternly at Ebert. "Disobeying orders, running away from home, and getting himself into trouble."

"Aw, come on, Abbot", Ebert whined as he looked down at his feet. "I _did_ help you beat Marcello, didn't I?"

"I never said I needed your help!", Angelo yelled at the boy. "I told you to stay at the abbey and wait for me to return! And here you are, once again breaking the rules! Once again nearly getting yourself _killed_! When will you learn to _do as you're told_?" Angelo saw that Ebert merely stood there without saying a word and without raising his head and figured he'd said enough. He turned to the lead Templar Knight.

"Captain", Angelo said. "our mission is complete. Marcello has been subdued. Have him put in restraints and taken to the ship at once. We set sail for New Purgatory Island as soon as possible. And be sure to doctor his wounds. He's just suffering from a concussion, nothing too serious. Oh, and take Ebert along with you. Do not let him leave your sight. Understand?"

"Yessir", the Captain replied. He signaled to his men and they swarmed Marcello, binding him in chains. Angelo watched as they dragged his brother away. He couldn't help but to feel sad. The Captain reached over to take Ebert's hand but the boy snatched it away.

"I can walk to the ship by myself", he said sulkily as he stalked off after the other Templars. After everyone else had left, Angelo turned and faced the sea where his boat, the Empyria's Wing, waited for him. Soon it would be carrying them all to New Purgatory Island, where Marcello would spend many a day to come. _It's his own fault_, Angelo thought to himself. _Marcello brought this on himself. He made his bed, so now he must lie in it. Besides, if the situation was reversed, I doubt he'd have much pity for me._ More thunder sounded from the clouds and Angelo hung his head, his heart seeming to reflect the weather. He did not want to do this to Marcello, but he felt he had no choice. Perhaps, in the far future, everything would be alright. For himself, for Marcello, for everyone. _Please let it be so, Goddess_, Angelo prayed silently. _Please let it be so._

As if in answer to his prayer, a heavy rain began to fall.


	2. Chapter One

**Dragon Quest VIII  
Kingdom of the Elves**

by: Amisha N. Smith

_Hello, everybody! Sorry it took so long for me to finish this chapter. Thanks to the flu that's been going about in my town I've been sick as a dog lately. But I'm better now, so let's get this fanfiction started proper! Chapter one begins in 3... 2... 1..._

**Chapter One**

"Mother?"  
"Mother, can you hear me?"  
"Please wake up, mother."

Marcello slowly walked down the filthy, run-down rickety hallway, his heart heavy with dread. He was walking towards a sound that was all to familiar to him; the sound of a certain little boy crying for his mother to open her eyes. As he walked, Marcello could faintly hear the voices of other people conversing in the hallway and in the many rooms to his left and his right. But when he turned his head to look around him, all he could see was emptiness and shadows. As strange as that was, Marcello was not alarmed or even slightly bewildered by it. That's because he knew he was dreaming, having the exact same nightmare he'd had for years now, since he was a child. As he always did in this dream, he headed for the very last door on the left side at the end of the hallway, the room from which he could hear the little boy weeping. With a sigh and feeling the weight of the world on his very heart, he turned the knob and went into the room, bracing himself for what he knew he would see.

Sure enough, he saw a small, ebony-haired boy kneeling beside the prone figure of a pale-skinned young woman, sleeping on a cot on the ground. The woman's eyes had dark circles around them and she was sweating profusely; no doubt she was extremely ill. It was terrible to see her like that, for when she had her health she was a vibrant and beautiful woman. Marcello knew this because the woman laying ill on the floor was his mother. And the young boy beside her weeping with his face in his hands was…

"M-Marcello?", the young woman said weakly as she opened her eyes. She slowly turned her head to look over at the weeping child. "Marcello, is that you?"

The boy's head shot up when he heard the woman's voice. His emerald-colored eyes still glittered with tears. "Yes, mother! It's me! I'm here!", he cried.

"Marcello… why are you here?", the woman asked. "Aren't you supposed… to have gone to… Maella Abbey?"

"Why am _I_ here? Why are _you_ here?", the boy countered. "You said you were gonna go to the hospital and get better, but instead here you are in this run-down old inn! Why, mother? What are you doing here?"

Marcello's mother reached over and stroked the boy's cheek. As Marcello watched from the doorway, he could feel his eyes beginning to moisten. "I am here… because the hospital… refused to treat me. I… have no money… so they turned me away", she replied. Every word she said seemed to take an extraordinary amount of energy from her.

"Turned you _away_?', the boy yelled, fear and anger in his voice. "But… they _can't_ do that! You… you'll _die_!"

"Yes", the woman said in a soft voice. "Which is why… you must go to… Maella Abbey. The abbot there is a kind and good man. He… will take good care of you. I know I… promised to come and get you… after I regained my health. I'm sorry I won't be able… to keep that promise."

"But… but _mom_… we can still… I mean… m-maybe we can find somebody who can help us?", the boy pleaded desperately.

"I'm… sorry, son", the woman said, stroking the boy's raven-colored hair. "I've… already tried… but your father and his wife's influence… stretches far… no one… would help me… for the fear of angering them."

"So no one's going to help you because they're afraid of my stupid father and his stupid wife?", the young boy yelled with anger in his voice, making his mother wince. As Marcello watched this tragic scene from his past re-enact itself yet again through his dreams, he remembered how mad he had been that day as he watched his mother slowly die. Even to this day his anger had not waned one bit. It had only gotten stronger over the passing years.

"Those… who have status and money… have the power to do… as they please", Marcello's mother said, he voice barely above a whisper. It was easy to tell she was fading away fast. "Your father… is one such person. And as many others…like him have done, he abuses… his power. It is… the way of the world."

"It's not _fair_!", the boy yelled, tears running down his cheeks. "I _hate_ my father! I _hate_ the way of the world!"

Marcello's mother continued to stroke her son's hair while gazing lovingly at him out of her glazed eyes. After about a minute, she opened her mouth and said something that to this very day Marcello had never forgotten.

"Do you truly hate the way of the world?", she asked her son. After the boy nodded, she smiled and said, "Then change it."

"_Change_ it? But _how_? How could _I_ change the way of the world?", the boy asked, tears still running uncontrollably down his face.

"You can do it", the woman replied. "You can do… anything you set your… mind to, Marcello. I see my strength… inside of you. In fact, I sense that you… have more inner strength than… I ever had." She reached down and took her son's hand. "Marcello, promise me something", she said in a weak voice that was barely audible. "Promise me… that you will not… let the world's views of your status in life… keep you from pursuing your dreams. You can… accomplish so _much_, Marcello. _Nothing_ is beyond… your limits. So don't you ever give up. Promise me."

The boy nodded sadly, seeming to finally resign himself to the fact that his mother was about to pass away. The woman let go of his hand, leaving behind a strange small object to rest in his palm. It was heavy and shined of pure gold. It looked to be what was left of some sort of medallion that had been broken in half. There was a pattern of skulls carved around it's rim, and a dark red stone resting where the middle of the medallion would have been.

"Mother… what's this?", the boy asked, looking quizzically at the strange object.

"That… is the only possession… I have left", the woman replied. "It… is a family heirloom. It's full of magic. Take good… care of it. It may be of use to you… someday." The woman then laid back and closed her eyes. "Now _go_… my son", she told the boy. "Please… do not stay here… and watch me die. Go to… Maella Abbey. Live… strong, my baby… boy. And may the Goddess… watch over and keep you, always."

The boy hung his head and began crying silently. As Marcello watched, he could feel a huge lump forming in his throat. He shook his head and closed his eyes, forcing back the tears. _No, I won't cry_, he thought with determination. _The time for grieving is over. Now is the time for anger. Now is the time for action. Now is the time for vengeance. I will hold my rage in. I will let it give me the strength I need to change this world. This will never happen again. Not to me, or anyone else. I'll see to that!_ Marcello opened his eyes and was not surprised to see his younger self standing in front of him and eyeing him with intense anger. A sick feeling of dread made Marcello's heart sink. This was always the worst part of the recurring nightmare.

"How could you do it?", the young boy growled at him. "How could you just leave and let her die?" Marcello hung his head, this time unsuccessful in holding back his tears. "You could have _saved_ her!", the boy shot out, his voice full of anger and pain. "You could have dome _something_! You could have done _anything_!" Marcello just stood there, completely unable to think of anything to say that would bring any comfort to the boy or to himself. "_Hey!_ Are you even _listening_ to me?", the boy yelled in his face. "You're _worthless_, do you hear me? _Worthless!_ Hey! _Hey!_"…

* * *

"Hey!"

Marcello awoke with a start and sat up hastily, breathing heavily. He wiped the sweat from his brow, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. That horrible dream was finally over, and he was right back where he was when he fell asleep about an hour and a half ago; on a dingy cot in a prison cell on New Purgatory Island, where he'd spent the last two weeks of his life. Marcello stretched his arms and rubbed the back of his neck, glad to be free of that terrible nightmare, at least until the next time he fell asleep. As he looked at his surroundings, a familiar feeling of rage began welling up in his gut. If it hadn't been for his accursed brother and that meddling brat he was with, he wouldn't be here. He recalled how Angelo and his Templar underlings had cornered him at Peregrin Quay, and how he'd dealt with them with ease, only to be taken down by some pre-pubescent little prick and his weird, gigantic flying toy. Of course, it was his brother who was most directly responsible for his current predicament. But then, that was nothing new. Since the day he was born, Angelo had always been directly responsible for most of his troubles. Marcello growled under his breath. He hated Angelo. He hated him with every fiber of his being.

"Hey, are you alright?", an unfamiliar voice said, startling him out of his thoughts. Marcello turned his head to see that the prison cell next to his, separated from his cell by a row of thick iron bars, was no longer empty as it had been before he laid down to take a nap. It was now occupied by a beautiful looking young woman with large blue-green colored eyes and long platinum-blonde hair. It was easy to tell from her long, pointed ears that she was an elf. She wore a blue, medium-length kimono-style short sleeved dress that accentuated every curve in her slender body, along with a pair of black leather cut-off gloves and short-cut boots, giving her the contradictory appearance of both elegance and outright tomboyishness. Not the kind of person Marcello ever expected to see in a place like this.

"Nice to see you finally decided to join the land of the living", the elf-girl said with a friendly smile. "You were whimpering like a puppy in your sleep. Must have been one hell of a nightmare you were having. Look at you; your forehead is soaking wet. You're sweating like a pig in a ham factory." The elf-girl reached into her pocket and produced a handkerchief. "Here, use this", she said, reaching through the bars to offer the handkerchief to Marcello.

Marcello just looked at the hanky, then at the girl. "No thanks", he finally said in a short tone.

The elf-girl shrugged and took back the hanky. "Suit yourself", she said, then she laid back on her cot, folded her arms behind her head, and leisurely crossed one leg over the other. Then the girl began to whistle a merry tune. Marcello continued to look at her, not able to help being a little intrigued by the girl's carefree behavior. She looked as if she might be relaxing on a meadow and having a picnic rather than being locked up as an involuntary resident in the one place that can understandably be described as hell on earth. After about a minute, Marcello lost interest in her and started looking straight ahead at a single burning torch on the far wall beyond the cells. The prison was totally bereft of windows so there was no sunlight to read the time by, nor were there any clocks on the stone walls. However, it only took Marcello a couple of days to learn how to read the time of day by how low the torch on the wall had burned down. The torch had almost burnt halfway through, which meant that it was nearly noon; almost lunchtime.

"So, handsome, what are you in for?", the elf girl suddenly turned to him and said, once again breaking him out of his thoughts. Marcello, not in the mood to talk, simply continued to look ahead without responding. "Givin' me the silent treatment, eh?", the elf continued, looking up at the ceiling. "Well, can't say I really blame you for having a bad attitude. This place is enough to put anyone in a bad mood." After that, there was another moment of silence. Then the elf-girl began to speak again. "You know, I heard some of the guards upstairs talking about you", she said, looking at Marcello out of the corner of her eye. "Are you really _the_ Marcello? The same guy who punched in Dark Lord Absom's ticket a little while back?"

"What of it?", Marcello asked irritably.

The girl responded with a chuckle. "Cool! I'm in prison with a celebrity", she said with a grin. "You might not believe this, but practically the whole world's talking about what you did to the leader of the Bloodshadow gang. Most of the people who've heard about it are totally afraid of you. _Especially_ the High Priests and the Templars. It's no wonder they decided to lock you up in the lower level of New Purgatory Island, where they reserve cells for the most heinous criminals." She then nodded at Marcello's arm. "And it's also no surprise that they had a magic seal put on you", she continued. "They must have surmised that anyone capable of doing what you did to a wizard as evil and dangerous as Absom must have some seriously powerful black magic, making you twice as evil and dangerous. It's really a shame, though; I would have loved to see a demonstration of your powers myself. But then, that's the sort of thing to expect when powerful people are scared of you."

Marcello looked down at his arm and glared in resentment at the magic seal that was locked around his wrist. That glowing iron manacle served it's purpose dutifully by preventing him from using any kind of magic whatsoever. _It was probably Angelo's idea to have this thing put on me_, he thought to himself. _Damn him! After I escape from this hellhole, I'm going to make it my number one priority to hunt him down and murder him slowly._

"Yeah, trust me. I know exactly how you're feeling", the elf-girl said with a lopsided grin. She raised her arm to show off her own magic seal. "See, they gave me one too. Not that I _asked_ for one, mind you." She turned her gaze back to the ceiling and shrugged her shoulders. "So, at least you're not alone when it comes to not being able to use your magic. And you know what they say; misery loves company."

Marcello looked at the girl for a few seconds, then sat up on his cot with a sigh of surrender. It was clear that this annoyingly talkative elf was not going to leave him in peace. "Tell me something, elf…", he began.

"Iylea", the girl interrupted him.

"What?", Marcello said.

The elf-girl sat up on her cot and looked him in his eyes. "My name is not 'elf'. It's Iylea", she replied.

Marcello sighed again, this time in sheer irritation. "Fine. _Iylea_", he growled, "You don't look like the kind of person one would find locked up in New Purgatory Island, much less in the lower level dungeon reserved for the most heinous criminals. What exactly did you do that earned you a prison cell in this place? What was your crime?"

Iylea rubbed the back of her neck and grinned sheepishly at Marcello. "Well, I'll tell ya Marc, it's kind of an embarrassing story", she said with a chuckle.

Marcello's anger flared up instantly. "How _dare_ you! You do _not_ have permission to call me Mar…", he began to yell angrily. But was interrupted by a familiar sound; the sound of the iron door at the entrance to the cell block squeaking open and something big and heavy banging down the stairs one step at a time.

"What the heck is _that_?", Iylea asked, instantly curious.

"Lunch", Marcello replied in a toneless voice.

The banging finally ended when at the bottom of the stairs appeared a burly, muscle-bound guard pushing a meal cart with two bowls on it. It was the same guard that delivered the meals every day, shirtless in order to show off every muscle in his huge body, wearing a yellow full-head mask that had two menacing looking horns sticking out from the top of it, and a spiked manacle on both wrists.

"Well, how's my favorite little jail-bird doin'?", the guard taunted as he started pushing the cart over to Marcello's cell. Marcello merely scowled down at the ground, refusing to answer. Ever since he'd arrived there it's been the same old thing; the guard who brought his meals every day always had a snide remark to give him. And, as always, Marcello refused to give the guard the satisfaction of even acknowledging him. "Aww, is the little jail-bird's song voice still broken?", the guard continued his bullying as he slid Marcello his meal on the floor through the tiny inlet on the bottom of his cell door. "Well, maybe his sexy new neighbor can get him singing again." And with that he turned his attention over to Iylea. The guard licked his lips as his eyes gave her the once-over. "Hey there, blondie", he said coarsely. "Tell you what; you let me squeeze on yer melons and I'll put a little extra in your dinner bowl tonight. How 'bout it?"

"Ugh. You gotta be _kidding_ me", Iylea said, turning her nose up in disgust. "You can kiss my ass."

"I can do that _too_, if you want", the guard replied with a grin.

"Okay listen, you shit hole", Iylea countered, her face turning red with anger. "Try to get this through your thick skull. Not even in your wildest dreams would I _ever_ make out with a pathetic loser like you, got it? I don't care if you promise to put caviar and lobster in my dinner bowl. It's not going to happen. I'd pretty much rather starve to death."

"Oh yeah? Well that can be arranged, toots!", the guardsman growled. He picked up the remaining bowl of steaming rice and fish on the food cart and flung it into the wall behind him. The bowl shattered, splattering food all over the wall and on the floor.

"There! Now let's see how attractive I look to you after a few days without food", the guard said cockily, then started laughing loudly. Marcello just smirked as he looked at the situation. That elf-girl's big mouth had just gotten her into more trouble than she could handle. Now three days could go by before the guard even considered bringing her another meal, _if_ she was lucky. The guard stretched his arms wide and yawned loudly. "Well, my work here is done", he said proudly as he turned and started pushing the meal cart towards the stairs. Before he began to ascend, he turned back to get one last look at Iylea. "See ya later, sweet cheeks", he said smugly. The guard then started climbing the stairs, banging the meal cart behind him and whistling merrily. After the iron door at the top of the stairs banged shut, Iylea laid back down on her cot and folded her arms before making one more comment.

"That guy… is one major league asshole", she grumbled resentfully.

* * *

Marcello hungrily shoved spoonfuls of his lunch into his mouth as he continued to look at the torch on the stone wall. The rice was hardly appetizing and the fish was tough and tasted like it was at least two days old. And yet he continued to eat. Marcello knew that he would have to remain as strong and clear-minded as possible if he was ever to find a way to escape from this hellish place. And that meant skipping as few meals as possible. Marcello was interrupted from his thoughts by a very distinctive sound; the sound of a stomach rumbling in hunger.

"Aw man", Iylea pouted as she rubbed her belly. "I'm _starving_. I can't believe that stupid guard is actually going to make me go hungry just because I gave him the brush off. This is so unfair." Iylea's stomach rumbled again and she groaned miserably. Marcello looked at the elf-girl and studied on her predicament. It was her own fault; the girl shot her mouth off and got on the guard's bad side, ensuring that it would be a while before she was given any more food. Her problem was no concern of his. And yet…

With yet another sigh of irritation, Marcello reached through the steel bars of his cell and handed his bowl of half-eaten food to Iylea.

"Here. Take this", Marcello grumbled.

Iylea blinked as she looked at the bowl Marcello was offering her. "Huh?", she replied, dumbfounded.

"Just take the food and eat it quickly, before the guard returns", Marcello commanded. "Hurry up!"

"Are you… I mean… you're really giving me your food?", Iylea said, hardly daring to believe what she was seeing.

"Do you want it or not?", Marcello snapped, having run out of patience. Iylea needed no more convincing. She hastily took the food and began gobbling it down. Marcello watched Iylea eating what was left of his lunch, hardly believing himself what he had just done. New Purgatory Island was a place where survival was reserved only for the fittest. There was no room in this prison for mercy, pity, or empathy. And yet, knowing this, he had given up half his meal to a fellow inmate he didn't even know. He also did this despite knowing that if the guard ever found out, there was a very good chance that both Marcello _and_ Iylea would be going without food for the next few days. Marcello shook his head, mentally scolding himself. He would have to rid himself of his soft-heartedness, and quickly. Such dispositions are a grave inconvenience in a place like this, _especially_ if you're trying to survive.

Iylea quickly wolfed down the last of the food in the bowl. "Oh man, that really hit the spot!", she said with a loud burp. She held the bowl out to Marcello through the steel bars, a happy grin on her face. "Thanks, Marc. I really owe ya one, _big_ time."

Marcello snatched the bowl from her. "Don't call me Marc", he snarled.

"Fine, fine.", Iylea replied with a shrug. She then batted her eyes and smiled at Marcello. "You know, it was really nice of you to share your food with me", she said. "I'm surprised. For such a grumpy sourpuss, you can really be sweet." Marcello responded by going back over to his cot and laying down on his side with his back to Iylea. "Yeah whatever, you grouchy gremlin", Iylea said playfully. "Well anyway, you definitely did me a big favor, so I guess I'm in your debt. If there's ever anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to ask"

"If you be quiet and let me lay here in peace, I will be more than happy to call it even", Marcello said coldly.

"Done and doner!", Iylea replied cheerfully. Marcello sighed inwardly. That elf was really starting to get on his nerves.

* * *

Marcello lay awake on his cot in the thick darkness of the dungeon, refusing to fall asleep. He could tell from the amount of time that elapsed after the torch on the wall had gone out that it had to be well past two o'clock in the morning. Sleepiness tugged at his eyelids, threatening to make him doze off. But he fought back the fatigue, trying his best to stay awake. For he knew that as soon as he fell asleep he would once again have that same terrible nightmare he always had.

Marcello turned over on his back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Trying so hard to stay awake was starting to give him a headache. He hated to admit it, but he wished that annoying elf-girl was still up right now. At least listening to her shoot her mouth off might have helped him to stay awake. Marcello recalled how earlier that evening the guard brought him his dinner, a steaming bowl of unappetizing stew, and brought Iylea absolutely nothing, staying true to his promise not to feed her for the next few days. Marcello ate about half of his dinner and, like he did with his lunch, gave the other half to Iylea. Iylea took it from him and eagerly scarfed it down. It was then Marcello noticed that the one of the few times that girl was not talking was when she was eating.

Even through his thoughts, Marcello felt himself slipping slowly into slumber and began wondering if he should just let himself doze off. It wasn't like he could fight sleep forever. Perhaps it would just be best to simply fall asleep and deal with the terrible dream he knew was coming. After all, every night that he tried to avoid sleep only ended in failure and a huge headache in the morning. Marcello settled back and made himself as comfortable as possible. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the inevitable nightmare that loomed just beyond his consciousness. Suddenly, just as he felt himself drifting off…

"Hey! Marc!"

Startled out of his near-sleep, Marcello's eyes shot open. He was almost certain that he'd just heard Iylea's voice call to him. He groggily turned his head to look in Iylea's cell and was mildly surprised to see she was no longer in it.

"Over _here_, ya dope!", Iylea's voice whispered north of him. Marcello turned his head to look and was more than a little surprised when he saw Iylea standing right outside his cell. She was sticking something in the lock on his cell door and moving it around, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"How the… What in the _hell_ are you…?", Marcello began, looking at Iylea in bewilderment.

"_Shhhh! Quiet!_ Do you want to alert the guards?", Iylea reprimanded as she continued to mess with the lock on Marcello's cell. After a few more seconds a loud click was heard. "Aha! Yes!", Iylea said joyfully. Then, with a huge grin, she pulled on the cell door and easily opened it. Marcello's jaw dropped.

"How… how did you do that?", Marcello asked in amazement.

Iylea winked at him. "Magic", she said as she pulled a thin, shiny object out of the lock on Marcello's cell door and put it in her pocket. She then put her hands on her hips. "Hey! What are you still laying there for? Don't you know when you've been paroled? Up and at 'em!"


	3. Chapter Two

**Dragon Quest VIII  
Kingdom of the Elves**

by: Amisha N. Smith

_Well, things might finally be getting better for our favorite ex-Templar Captain. And it looks like Marcello's made a new friend (whether he likes it or not). Now, let's see if they can have a successful jailbreak. (I hope so. I'd hate to do an entire fanfiction centered around Marcello's days in prison.) So, let's get this show on a road!_

**Chapter Two**

Sitting behind his desk and grinning from ear to ear, the warden of New Purgatory Island counted the many piles of gold coins on his desk. He was rich. Filthy, stinking, disgustingly rich. He was rolling in dough. And it was all thanks to two prisoners that had arrived at his island only a short time ago. First it was that famous former Templar captain, Marcello, who arrived about a week ago. He remembered how the prisoner had been escorted into the prison with at least a dozen Templar guards flanking him, well armed and looking extremely nervous. And he fully understood why. It was well-known far and wide that Marcello had just recently single-handedly slaughtered Lord Absom, the leader of the Bloodshadow gang and one of the most powerful sorcerers on earth. At first he was a little skittish about receiving such a dangerous man into his prison, even though Marcello's arm had already been fitted with a magic seal that completely prevented him from using sorcery of any kind. But when their leader, a silver-haired young man wearing a red Templar uniform, presented him with a big bag full of gold coins all of the warden's nervousness instantly evaporated. The young man introduced himself as an abbot of some monastery or other, and promised the warden a steady monthly payment of a generous amount of gold if he would promise to take good care of the prisoner and make sure all of his necessary needs were met. Indeed, now that the warden was thinking about it, it was strange of someone turning in a prisoner to make such a request. Of course, at the time, the warden _wasn't_ thinking much about the oddity of the situation. He was too busy salivating over the huge bag of gold the abbot had given him.

And then there was that _other_ prisoner. The female elf that had arrived there just hours ago right before the afternoon. The very day before yesterday, an elf messenger showed up in his office carrying a big red velvet sack tied with a ribbon. With an arrogant look of superiority, the elf threw the sack onto the warden's desk, which immediately toppled over and spilled it's contents; rubies, gold coins, sapphires, and all sorts of other small, valuable objects. The warden nearly had a heart attack when he saw the pile of rare, valuable stones and gold glittering on his desk. It was then that the elf introduced himself as the messenger of some mighty elf king. He also said that soon a female elf would arrive at his island as a prisoner, and that his royal liege would be there shortly after to personally claim custody of the girl. Of course, claiming the girl would not be possible without the consent of the warden. Hence the sparkling heap of bribe now laying on the warden's desk.

The warden smirked and shook his head as he gazed at his riches. Two weeks ago he was just another warden making minimum wage at a prison full of the cursed scum of the earth, and today he was a man wealthy beyond his imagination. Of course, he knew that his getting paid for the elf-girl was a one-time only thing, and once this elf king showed up to take her away she would no longer be any concern of his. But that was just fine and dandy, because he would still have Marcello, his monthly cash cow. The warden threw his head back and laughed. He took an expensive bottle of wine down off the shelf behind him and popped the cork. He then poured some of it's contents into a nearby glass. He had been saving this wine for a special occasion, and right now he couldn't think of a better time or reason to open it. He lifted his full glass into the air. "Here's to you, Marcello. I'm sure as hell glad ya came, and may you remain here for many years to come", he toasted his prize prisoner before guzzling down the wine.

* * *

"Ahhhh! Man, it feels _great_ to finally be out of that cell!", Iylea said as she leisurely stretched her arms and legs. "I'll tell ya, Marc, I don't know how you haven't gone insane! I've only been here for a few hours and I almost went stir crazy! But _you_, you've been here for a whole freakin' _week_! How in the hell did you manage to keep your cool?"

Marcello, who was standing leaned against the outside of his cell with his arms folded and one leg crossed over the other, gritted his teeth in sheer irritation at the elf. "Being in prison for a million years", he hissed, "would not be _half_ as maddening as spending five minutes near an annoying elf who insisted on calling me 'Marc'. Anyway, you'd better enjoy the few minutes of freedom you have while it lasts."

"Huh? What do you mean by that?", Iylea asked, scratching her head.

"I mean that it won't be long before you're locked back up in your cage", Marcello replied.

"Hey, no _way_ am I going back inside that cell!", Iylea said with fierce determination. "You think I sprung us just so we can be thrown back in? Nuh-uh. We're getting the hell off this island. _Now_."

"Oh, _really_?", Marcello said with a sneer. "Well then, tell me; what's your plan, hm? How exactly do you plan on getting us past the hundreds of guards upstairs? Please enlighten me. I'm just _dying_ to know."

Iylea responded by rubbing the back of her neck and looking down at her feet. "Uh… well I… um… er…", Iylea scratched her cheek and looked up at Marcello. "Well,… I, ah… I guess I didn't think things through _entirely_", she admitted with a sheepish grin.

Marcello just looked at Iylea and shook his head. He then turned his back on her and stepped back inside his cell.

"Hey! What are you doing?", Iylea asked in a raised voice.

"Getting back into my cell before the guard comes down and sees me", Marcello replied. "And I would suggest you do the same. Because if the guard comes down and sees you standing outside of your cell, the punishment you suffer will be much more severe than not being brought any food for a week. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to get some sleep before breakfast. Goodnight." Marcello grabbed the iron bars of the door and started to pull it closed… only to be stopped by Iylea grabbing the bars from the other side of the cell.

"Hey, come on! You're not gonna give up _that_ easily, are you?", she said desperately. "I mean, it's true that I didn't do a great job planning the actual _escape_, but can't we put our heads together and at least _try_ to come up with an idea?"

"Let go", Marcello snapped irritably.

"Look, do you _want_ to spend the rest of your life rotting in this place?", Iylea asked angrily. "I know _I_ don't. And I know _you_ don't either. This could be the only chance we ever get to escape. Do you really want to blow it?" Iylea looked Marcello straight in his eyes. "I heard you talking in your sleep earlier", she told him. "You were saying something about changing the world and keeping a promise to your mom."

"That's none of your…", Marcello started to yell angrily.

"Look, Marc", Iylea interrupted. "I don't know what this promise you made to your mom is about. And you're right, it's none of my beeswax, so I really don't _want_ to know. But I do know this much; if the people who put you in this place have their way about things, you're never getting out of here. And I can only imagine how difficult it will be for you to 'change the world' if you're stuck behind bars on this goddess-forsaken island forever."

Marcello stared down at Iylea and considered her words. He hated to admit it, but a part of him actually agreed with her. He had always planned to escape from this place as soon as he got the opportunity, and this might very well be the only opportunity he'd ever get. A week ago he had no idea how he would manage to even get out of his cell. And now that he was, thanks to Iylea, it would seem a shame to waste this chance. There was no way he would ever get revenge on his brother and see his dream come true if he was locked behind bars for the rest of his life.

With a sigh of both irritation and resignation, Marcello reopened his cell door and stepped back outside his cell. "Woohoo! That's the spirit!", Iylea cheered happily. "Quiet, you idiot", Marcello growled. "Do you want to alert the guards?" He looked to his left and saw a door at the far end of the block. _Ah, yes. That must lead to the basement_, Marcello thought to himself. With a cunning smile he walked over to the door.

"Hey, where are you going?", Iylea asked, following him. "Is that a secret exit or something?"

"I'm going to create a diversion", Marcello replied. "Seeing as how it's highly unlikely the guards upstairs are going to let us just waltz out of here, our first order of business is obviously to distract them." Marcello walked up to the door and knocked on it three times. "_Who's there?"_, a muffled voice said behind the door. Marcello didn't answer. He just waited a few more seconds before again knocking thrice. This time the sound of footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs on the other side of the door. Marcello motioned for Iylea to get behind him and they both stood in the corner behind the door and waited. A few seconds more the door opened and a young, wary-looking guard emerged. "Hello? Walt, was that you?", the rookie guard asked, looking cautiously around the cell block. Marcello didn't give the boy time to look behind him. He flew forward and, striking as fast as a cobra, hit the guard on the back of his head with his fist. The guard slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Ouch. That had to hurt", Iylea said, looking at the guard with pity.

Marcello said nothing. He merely stepped over the guard and began descending the stairs beyond the door. "Hey, wait up!", Iylea said, tailing him. "You know, you've got some pretty fast hands. I'll bet you're as good with a sword as you are with magic. I'm pretty okay with a blade myself, just so you'll know." Marcello rolled his eyes upward but said nothing as he continued down the stairs. He reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped forward into a narrow, vertical room that was lit by the light of two torches; one on the far wall to the left and the other on the far wall to the right. On the wall on the left, right next to the torch, was a big lever.

"Aha! There it is!", Marcello said as he walked briskly over to the lever.

"Huh? What's that lever do?", Iylea asked curiously.

"This", Marcello explained, "is an emergency release lever that opens up all the cell doors in New Purgatory Island. The old Purgatory Island had one, so I figured this one would too."

"Huh? I don't get it. Why would they have such a thing put in a prison?", Iylea asked.

Marcello sighed. "In case of emergencies. Like a fire or an earthquake, you numbskull", he snapped. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around the lever. _This is it_, he thought, anxiety and determination building in his gut. _Once I pull this lever, there will be no turning back. I will escape, or I will die trying. Either way, this will be my very last day in this hellhole._ Marcello pulled the lever down with such force he broke it off the wall. "That's it! Let's go!", he said as he turned and ran out of the room. He ran back up the stairs to the floor his prison cell was on and rushed forward to the stairs leading to the upper level of the prison.

"Hey, Marc! Wait up!", Iylea called, running just a few feet behind him. Marcello ran all the way up the stairs and stopped right behind the iron door that led out to the first floor. He turned to Iylea and put a finger to his lips. Iylea understood and made a zipping motion across her lips. _Finally!_, Marcello thought. _I got that girl to shut up!_ Marcello strained his ear to listen beyond the door and in a few short seconds was rewarded with the sound he'd been waiting to hear; the sound of many alarms going off and many men yelling and fighting. The sound of a full-blown prison riot. "Let's go", Marcello said. He opened the iron door and he and Iylea beheld a chaotic sight. Some guards were fist-fighting with prisoners while others were taking advantage of the fact that they had swords and the prisoners didn't. Of course, not all of the prisoners were unarmed, as many of them had already torn legs off of tables and chairs and were using them as weapons. Some of the prisoners even had knives. The bloody bodies of a few wounded and dead prisoners and guards were already littering the floor. Marcello rushed forward towards the body of the nearest dead guard and snatched his sword from his hand. A guard across the way saw him and rushed him, brandishing his own sword. In two quick moves Marcello had cut off the man's arm and then his head. Iylea watched, clearly impressed, as the decapitated guard slumped to the ground.

"Holy _crap_, Marc", she said as she picked up the dead guard's arm and pried his sword from his hand. "When you disarm a man, you _really_ disarm a man."

"Call me Marc again", Marcello growled at the elf as he held up his sword, "and I swear I'll use this blade to clean out your colon."

* * *

The warden's eyes snapped open and his head shot up from his desk. "Wh-what the _hell_?", he said groggily as he wiped slobber from the corners of his mouth. The sounds of screaming and yelling and alarms blaring outside his office had woken him up from a fitful slumber. "What's going on?", he wondered, his adrenaline already rising. He got up and ran to the door, and was startled when it slammed open, hitting him in his face. "Ow! Watch it!", the warden said, grabbing his now sore nose.

"Sir! Sir! We have… a crisis", he heard a weak voice say. The warden's eyes widened with alarm when he saw who had come to his office; a prison guard, seriously wounded and clutching his abdomen, which was bleeding badly. The guard's knees buckled and the warden reached out and caught him in his arms just in time, keeping him from collapsing onto the floor. The guard looked up at the warden with glazed eyes. "Sir… the prisoners… released… someone must have… the emergency release switch… _ugh_!" The guard began to groan and cough up blood.

"Hey! Hang on!", the warden said urgently. "I'll get a doctor! Just stay with it!"

"No… time", the guard strained, breathing heavily. "The prisoners… you gotta stop… can't let them… escape…" With that, the guard took one last breath and his head fell back. His gaze was fixed and unblinking.

"Dammit!", the warden growled. He let go of the dead guard and drew his sword. He stepped outside his office… and was utterly horrified by what he saw. Everywhere he looked there was chaos and death. Where he didn't see guards and prisoners locked in mortal combat he saw the corpses of others piled on the ground. "How? How could this happen?", he wondered as he watched the horrific scene. "Who on earth could have tripped the emergency lever?" Outside, he heard the blast of the cannons stationed on the look-out towers to the east and the west of the prison going off and knew that some of the prisoners must have already made it out of the prison, intent on escaping. Suddenly a terrifying thought came to him: What if Marcello was one of the prisoners outside trying to escape? Or worse, one of the prisoners laying dead on the floor? Either of those two scenarios would have been bad news to him. Because he knew that if Marcello somehow managed to make it off of New Purgatory Island or got killed trying to do it, he could kiss his big monthly pay-off from the abbot goodbye. He scanned the mass of fighting men, hoping to catch a glimpse of the former Templar captain in the crowd. His eyes finally caught sight of Marcello and that elf-girl that arrived at his prison just yesterday, fighting off about seven of his guards and doing a damn good job of it. His guards were dropping like flies.

"Not bad, Marcello", the warden said as he watched Marcello in action. "I guess I should expect such skill from the likes of you. But unfortunately, all the swordsmanship skills in the world won't do you any good. There's no way I'm letting you or that elf escape from here." Without another word, the warden rushed over to the chain that kept a huge iron barred gate hovering just over the wooden traditional one. Laying beside it, much to his luck, was a dead prisoner with an axe buried in his chest. The warden picked up the bloody axe and stationed the blade of it over the chain, bracing himself for one mighty swing…

* * *

Marcello slashed widely with his sword and watched with satisfaction as the last guard that was in his way fell dead onto the ground and laid there face-first in a pool of his own blood. "Well, that was easy", he said with a dark smirk.

"Yeah, easy for _you_, maybe", Iylea panted, trying to catch her breath. "I'm not used to fighting like this." Iylea looked forward and saw other prisoners forcing their way past guards and making it out the front gate. "That's our way out! Let's go!", she said excitedly. Iylea ran forward, pushing her way through the crowd of prisoners, and went through the gate to the world outside. It was still dark; the sun had not risen yet, as it was only a little past four in the morning. But the smell of the outside air was still invigorating. "Ah. Free at last!", Iylea said joyfully. She looked ahead and saw prisoners swarming the beach, already forcefully commandeering the cargo ships on the bay planning to use them to sail away from New Purgatory Island. Iylea smiled cunningly. They had the right idea, but were going about it the wrong way. They, unlike herself, had no idea there was a much faster ship somewhere on this island. She already had a plan of her own for getting out of this dreadful place. She noticed the canons to the east and the west were no longer going off and figured some of the prisoners must have already killed the guards that were manning them. _Well, that's convenient_, Iylea thought to herself. _I don't want any of those canons blasting me and Marc out of the water while we're sailing away from this place._ She turned around to tell Marcello to hurry up, and that's when something she didn't expect happened. A huge iron gate slammed down in front of her, suddenly and completely separating anything on the inside of the prison from the outside.

"Yikes!", Iylea said, falling backwards on her butt. If she had been any closer, that gate could have skewered her. She looked, alarmed, at the outraged faces of the prisoners that were now once again trapped within the stone walls of the prison. And, much to her dismay, Marcello was one of them. He was right at the gate, looking puzzled and enraged. Iylea knew he must be so pissed off to be that close to freedom only to have it snatched from him in a hot second.

"Guards! Get some reinforcements up here! Now!", Iylea heard the warden yell. "Get those men back to their cells. And if you can help it, try not to kill any of them!"

Iylea got up, brushed herself off, and began frantically to try and think of a way she can help Marcello. There was no way she was leaving here without him. She had no idea why, but for some reason she just couldn't bring herself to do that. She looked to her left and her right, hoping to spot something that might give her an idea. _If only there was some way I could bust this gate down_, she thought desperately. _Or bend it, or blow it up…_ That's when an idea hit her and she smiled. _Iylea, you're a genius_, she thought to herself. She ran up to the gate where Marcello was still standing with his sword drawn and his back to her, obviously waiting for the reinforcements the warden called for to arrive. It seemed he was not willing to give up without a fight.

"Marcello! Listen to me! I have a plan for getting you out of there!", she yelled.

Marcello turned his head slightly to the left when he heard her. "_You_ again", he said, once again sounding annoyed. "What do _you_ want? Why are you even still _here_? Shouldn't you be heading for one of the cargo ships so you can escape from this island?"

"Marcello, please! Just _listen_!", Iylea cried. "You must head for the eastern gate! It's the only way you're gonna get out of there!"

"Idiot", Marcello growled. "Don't you think they've already lowered the iron gate at the eastern entrance by now?"

"I _know_ that!", Iylea yelled. "I have a plan! Marc, _please_! You have to _trust_ me!"

"I told you to stop calling me Marc!", Marcello snarled angrily. "And why should I trust you, anyway? I don't even _know_ you!"

"Because if you don't, you're either going right back into your cell or you're gonna die!", Iylea said desperately. "Look, I know you probably aren't used to trusting other people, and you more than likely have your reasons for that. But right now, what choice do you have? _Really_?" Marcello said nothing in return. He just stared at Iylea with narrow eyes, wondering why this girl he'd just met would want to risk getting herself re-captured just to try to help him. It was at that moment the angry yells of the prisoners elevated as the reinforcements the warden requested arrived from the higher floors. Marcello was somewhat alarmed to see that the new guards that arrived were armored almost from head to toe and were carrying some really long swords with jagged, wicked-looking blades.

"Here! Over here!", the warden yelled as he pointed towards Marcello. "Do not let the prisoners escape! _Especially_ that one!"

_What? Especially me? Why is the warden so intent on keeping me here?_, Marcello wondered.

"You're out of time!", Iylea said urgently. "Marcello, you gotta head for the eastern gate! _Now_! I'll meet you there!" She then rushed off and was gone in a matter of seconds. Marcello considered his options for a few seconds. Or rather, his _lack_ of options, thereof. Most of the prisoners had already surrendered themselves, not wanting to be hacked to pieces by the elite guardsmen. And Marcello knew that not even he could fight them all by himself. So the only choice he really had was to trust that Iylea really had a plan for getting him the hell out of here. With a sigh of frustration, he flew past the prisoners and the guards as quick as lightning and started running down the eastern corridor.

"After him! Now!", he heard the warden yell.

* * *

Iylea rushed towards the canon tower in the east, hoping against hope that she wouldn't have to fight any guards on the way. She didn't have time for such distractions. And Marcello _definately_ didn't have time for it. _Hang on, Marc! I'm coming!_ She reached the eastern tower and climbed the stairs all the way to the top where the canon was stationed. To her relief, the only guard she saw up there was a dead one. _Okay. So far, so good. Now let's put this plan of mine into action._ She looked over the balcony of the tower and saw the iron bars of the eastern gate located right below, conveniently placed so that it would be easy for a guard to blow an escaping prisoner to smithereens. It was perfect. Iylea manned the canon, aimed it right at the gate, and waited for Marcello to show up. _Come on, Marc! You can make it! Hurry!_

* * *

Marcello ran down the eastern hall, slicing up any guards that challenged him as he went. _That elf-girl had better make good on her promise_, he thought to himself. Of course, he knew he certainly wasn't in any position to make demands. If that elf wanted to simply abandon him and escape on her own, she could easily do that. All Marcello could really do was hope that the girl stayed true to her word. He heard the tramp of the guards behind him getting closer and started to run faster. It wasn't long before he reached the huge iron-barred eastern gate. He ran up to the gate and looked out past the bars for any sign of Iylea. He didn't see her anywhere. _Dammit, where the hell is she?_, he thought anxiously to himself. He heard the steps of the running guards drawing ever closer and turned to face them, ready to fight them to the death. A few seconds later he was trapped between the iron gate and the warden and the dozens of armored guards behind him.

"And where do you think _you're_ going?", the warden said smugly as he smirked at Marcello. "I certainly hope you weren't thinking of checking out of your new home early. Don't you know? You're here to stay."

"Not if I have anything to say about it", Marcello growled, standing ready for a battle. There was no way they were going to stick him back into a prison cell. He had already sworn that he would either escape or die. "Well, what are you waiting for? Are you going to attack? Or are you going to just stand there like the cowards you are?"

The warden chuckled. "I like you, Marcello. You've got balls. Too bad my guards are gonna have to break 'em." He then motioned to his guards to attack. "Take him down, boys. But don't hurt him too badly. That abbot who delivered him a week ago is paying me good money to keep him here, safe and sound. I don't want a decrease in pay because he has too many bruises on him."

_So that's it! Angelo, you rat-bastard!_, Marcello thought, enraged. _So, you're paying the warden to keep me here, are you? No wonder the warden is so intent on making sure I don't leave. I'll get you for this, I swear it._ The guards began to cautiously move towards Marcello. Marcello brandished his sword and stood his ground, now more determined than ever to escape. There was no way he was going to let Angelo get away with this. Then, just as he was about to engage his enemies, something very unexpected and sudden happened. A gigantic explosion erupted behind him, throwing him, the warden, and the guards about five feet. "Augh!", Marcello cried as he landed on his chest and face. He and the guards lay still and unconscious on the ground for about two minutes. Suddenly Marcello heard a familiar voice calling his name from afar. Or rather, a familiar voice calling him by a shortened version of his name that he found extremely annoying.

"Hey! Hey, Marc! Are you alright? Marc!"

Marcello groaned as he slowly struggled to get back on his feet. He finally stood up and turned to look behind him and saw that a gigantic hole had somehow been blown into the iron gate. Beyond the gate, standing there looking at him anxiously, was Iylea.

"Hey, are you alright?", she asked him in a very concerned voice. "You don't seem to be bleeding. Anything broken?"

"What… how… how did you…", Marcello said, still somewhat dazed.

Iylea grinned. "I used the eastern canon to blow up the gate", she said proudly. "Pretty smart, eh? Yeah, I know, you can say it. I'm a genius."

Marcello shook his head, trying to knock the stars out of his vision. He walked forward towards Iylea and went through the hole in the gate. He stood in front of Iylea and glared into her eyes. "Do you mind doing me a favor?", he growled angrily. "Could you maybe _warn_ me the next time you want to blow something up?" Iylea smiled sheepishly and turned red. "Ah,… sorry about that", she said. "I guess I should have given you a heads up, eh?" She then shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, at least I got you out of there! Now, let's check out of this dump!" She grabbed Marcello by his wrist and began pulling him towards the south side of the island. Marcello snatched his wrist away from her, annoyed.

"Would you let go of me?", he snapped. "I can walk by myself. Besides, the cargo boats are at the _front_ of the island, you dolt."

"Sheesh! Are you _always_ this grumpy, or only on days when you're breaking out of prison?", she said cheerfully. "I _know_ the cargo boats are at the front of the prison. But we're not _taking_ the cargo boats, you silly head. Those boats are easily chased down by navy vessels full of armed prison guards and canons. No, we're taking the warden's personal boat! It's a lot smaller and a helluva lot faster! It's docked out back! Let's go!"

Iylea started running towards the back of the island. Marcello just sighed and shrugged his shoulders before running after her. She did, after all, get him out of a tight spot, proving that she can at least be trusted. The two ran along the beach until they reached the very back of the stone prison, where they beheld the warden's personal boat, the Wailing Willow. Marcello looked at the fancy aerodynamic design and the wide sails of the expensive looking little boat and had to admit it, it was definitely smaller and likely twenty times faster than any cargo boat. There was no way any navy vessel would be able to catch up with this boat.

"So what are we waiting for?", Iylea said playfully. "Avast ye, me hearty! Let's shove off before the guards arrive! Yarr!"

Marcello looked at Iylea, once again annoyed. "Are you ever serious about anything?", he asked.

"Not if I can help it", Iylea responded with a wink and an impish grin. She then ran off towards the boat. "First one there gets to be captain!", she yelled back.

Marcello rubbed his temples before going after her. "This voyage… is going to be a long one", he said to himself.


	4. Chapter Three

**Dragon Quest VIII  
Kingdom of the Elves**

by: Amisha N. Smith

_Anyone else having fun? I know I'm having a blast! Man, what a jailbreak! And to think, the real adventures haven't even begun! So, what do you think? Will Marcello and Iylea make a great team? Or perhaps even (gasp) become friends? Or will our hero finally snap after being called 'Marc' for the umpteenth time and summarily strangle our heroine to death? Only one way to find out! On with the story!_

**Chapter Three**

The warden of New Purgatory Island sat alone behind his desk in his office and poured himself another big glass of scotch. No more of the super expensive restaurant-caliber wine for him. Now it's back to getting drunk off of the regular stuff. And today, he planned to get sloppy, pissy drunk. He raised the glass to his lips and gulped it's contents down quickly before slamming the glass back down on his desk. He felt like a million bees were buzzing around in his head and surmised that he was more than halfway there.

_Damn you, Marcello_, the warden thought bitterly as he poured himself another glass. _I hope you and that elf both rot in hell._ He couldn't get over how just yesterday he was a wealthy man, sitting on top of the world and planning his early retirement, and now today he was once again just a lowly middle-class minimum wage making warden. Only now he was a lot worse off than he was before Marcello and that elf had come to his prison. The deadly prison riot that had broken out early that morning had cost him much; about one-third of his men were either badly wounded or dead, and most of the prisoners had either been killed or had escaped on one of the two hijacked cargo boats on the front of the island. Of course the warden had sent navy boats full of his most elite guards to reclaim the boats and recapture the prisoners, hoping against hope that Marcello and the elf-girl would be among the escapees brought back to New Purgatory Island. The first stolen cargo boat full of prisoners was recaptured easily; all of the prisoners surrendered immediately because none of them wanted to be destroyed by the navy boat's canons. The second one, however, was full of prisoners who were not willing to give up without a fight. When the navy boat caught up beside them, the prisoners threw knives and lit torches at them in an effort to injure as many guards as they can and set their vessel on fire. The guards had no other alternative but to open fire on the boat, practically blowing the deck of it to pieces on the first shot. A few of the prisoners were killed as a result of the attack, and some of them were seriously hurt. The remaining prisoners that were alive immediately surrendered at that point and the second cargo boat was recaptured. But, much to the warden's dismay, neither Marcello nor the elf-girl he escaped with were found among the living or dead prisoners brought back to New Purgatory Island that afternoon. It was then that one of the guards reported to him with some very distressing news. His private ship, the Wailing Willow, had been stolen from it's dock in the back of the island. And seeing as how Marcello and the elf-girl were the only escaped prisoners unaccounted for amongst the returned convicts, he had a pretty good idea of who had swiped his boat. Which also brought him to the terrible realization that not only was Marcello in a boat that was built fast enough to outrun any navy vessel, but he'd been given a more than adequate head start. Those two factors alone pretty much crushed the warden's hope of getting Marcello back, as well as marked the end of his generous monthly payment from the abbot.

The warden guzzled down another glass of scotch and waited until he could feel the buzzing in his brain getting even stronger. By now he was quite drunk, but still not quite drunk enough. He wanted to get wasted. He wanted to get smashed. He wanted to be so drunk that he'd pass out for days. Then he wouldn't have to think about Marcello, or the elf-girl, or his dead men, or the abbot, or _anything_. He had started to pour himself another glass of scotch when he suddenly heard a lot of noise outside his office. It sounded like men yelling and swords clashing with each other. "Whaa?", the warden slurred, a little surprised himself at just how terribly drunk and depressed he sounded. He sat still and listened, wondering what was going on. Perhaps another prison riot?

A few more seconds went by before the warden merely shrugged and finished pouring himself another drink. Truth be told, he didn't give a damn if there _was_ another riot happening. The worst had already happened as far as he was concerned. Every last prisoner on this island could escape and never come back for all he cared. After all, the only two prisoners that really mattered have already done just that. He lifted his seventh glass of scotch to his lips and started gulping it down. But before he could finish the drink, his office door slammed open, startling him and making him choke.

"Warden! We have a major crisis!", the young guard who barged into his office yelled in a panic.

The warden responded by taking the glass he had been drinking out of and throwing it at the guard, and pissing himself off as the glass shattered on the wall five feet away from his target, missing the guard by a wide margin. "**Get the **_hic_ **hell outta here!"**, he yelled in a drunken anger between hiccups. "Didn't I _hic_ tell you I don't wanna be _hic_ bothered? **Get lost**!"

"Sir, _please_! You _must_ listen!", the guard pleaded. "We are currently under attack! A whole fleet of foreign ships have docked at the bay! We've been invaded…!" That was as far as the guard got before the blade of a sword was suddenly sticking out of his chest. "Ugh!", the guard moaned before falling to the floor dead. And standing there over the guard's body was a bronze-skinned black-haired elf wearing very fancy looking armor. Although the elf seemed very young, he also had a very hard look in his eyes; the look of a weathered soldier. The elf bent down and pulled his sword out of the guard he had just killed. Then he wiped his sword clean on the dead guard's own body.

"Wut the _hell_?", the warden slurred angrily. "H-_hey_! Where'd _you_ come from? You can't _hic_ just go 'round killin' my men! Who do _hic_ you think you _are_?" The elf didn't answer. Instead, he very warily checked behind the door and all around the office, as if making sure no one else was in the room. When he was finally satisfied, he walked outside the office, turned to the right, and kneeled low.

"All is clear, my liege. You may enter", the elf said with reverence.

It was then that the warden heard the clip-clops of someone walking briskly towards his office door from the right. And from the sound of it, it was actually more than one person. Even as drunk as he was, the warden couldn't help but get an extremely uneasy feeling; as if all the hairs on the back of his neck began to rise simultaneously. He reached down at the hilt on his belt and gripped the handle of his sword. He knew that if any trouble jumped off, he might be a little too drunk to put up an adequate fight. Still, he was not about to just lay down like a dog and quietly allow himself to be murdered, drunk or not.

When the people walking towards the warden's office finally revealed themselves in the doorway, the warden was greeted with quite a sight. The first one who walked in was a tall, broad shouldered hulk of a man. He had long, pointed ears; obviously he was an elf. His long, blonde wavy hair flowed down his back just past his shoulders, and his long blonde beard flowed down his front just reaching his massive chest. He was extravagantly dressed in an expensive looking white suit of fancy silk and satin which was covered by black, fancy looking armor rimmed with gold, and a long black velvet cape flowed behind him. A shiny golden crown with a single black jewel glittering in the center of it's front rested on his head, making it obvious that this giant of an elf held some title of royalty. A huge broadsword with a golden jewel-studded hilt hung at his belt.

"So, _you're_ the warden of this prison", the regal elf said in a voice that was somehow both sinister and dignified.

"Yeah, I'm the one in authori… erm… authori… authorrr… eh, I'm in charge", the warden replied, so drunk he couldn't even talk straight. "So, wut of it?"

The elf merely raised an eyebrow in response and walked forward to stand in front of the warden's desk. He then wrinkled his nose as if he was smelling something unpleasant. "Hmm. It smells more to _me_ like the only thing you've been in charge of lately is the liquor cabinet", he said with a smirk.

The warden heard a snicker coming from the doorway, and that's when he finally noticed the other two individuals that had come into his office. Elven knights, dressed in shiny white armor and armed with sharp spears, stood behind their master on either side of the doorway. The cold, superior way they eyed him was more than a little unsettling. Still, the warden refused to allow these uppity elves to know they were intimidating him.

"Yeah, real funny. You're a regular _hic_ comedian", the warden retorted sluggishly. "Just who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Ah, my apologies. I haven't even introduced myself yet, have I?", the regal elf replied. "I am King Ulard, ruler of the elven kingdom of Xhaidenia. I believe my impending arrival had already been foretold to you a short time ago?"

"Whuh?", the warden said, a confused and heavily intoxicated expression on his face.

"By my messenger, you drunken jackass", the king said with a sigh, already losing his patience.

"Oh yeah. The one who gave me the _hic_ bag full o' goodies", the warden replied, finally grasping what the elf king was talking about.

"Yes", King Ulard confirmed. "Of course, that little gift was not exactly _tax free_, if you know what I mean. It was given in good faith that you would allow me to retain custody of one of your most recent prisoners. Specifically, the young female elf that arrived at your prison just yesterday. In fact, so full of anticipation was I about this exchange that I decided to come and supervise the closing of our little deal personally." King Ulard then startled the warden by reaching out, grabbing him by his collar, and pulling him across the top of his desk. The king held the warden up so that they were face to face. There was rage in the royal elf's eyes. "So imagine my disappointment", he continued in a steely voice full of wrath, "when I arrived at the docks of this accursed island only to be told by your guards that the female elf in question had already been allowed to escape."

"Oh yeah? Well whoop-dee-_hic_ doo", the warden replied defiantly, trying his best not to sound as afraid as he was feeling at that moment. "Is that why you and your stupid elf subordinates started _hic_ killing my men? Because you were disappointed?"

"Actually, the reason my men started laying waste to your human guards is because they had the nerve to disrespect me", King Ulard hissed. "After hearing about the prison break that you and your incompetent underlings allowed to happen this morning, I wanted to talk to you personally. But your idiotic guards dared to try to expel me from the island, telling me that you didn't want to be bothered. And when I insisted, they began using such uncouth phrases as 'Get lost', and 'Take a hike, long ears'. That's quite a rude way to talk to someone, _especially_ a king. So, they had to be taught some… manners." The cold smile on King Ulard's face sent a chill up the warden's spine. "Anyway, like I said before, I desired to speak with you. And I certainly couldn't let a bunch of uneducated human grunts stand in my way."

"Oh yeah? Well, what's there to _hic_ talk about?", the warden snapped. His patience as far as dealing with this arrogant elf monarch had come to it's end. "The elf-girl is long gone. She's history. She's flown the coop. It's over. So what the hell do you want _me_ to do about it? Look, if you want all your gold back, I'll give it to you. Every last cent. That's about all I can do for you. Then you can _hic_ take your little soldiers and get the hell offa my island. And the sooner the better, 'cause I'm already sick o' looking at you elf _hic_ bastards. Now take yer damn hands offa my collar."

King Ulard released his grip on the warden and watched the human fall backwards into his chair. He eyed the insolent human with intense hatred for a moment, then turned his back on him. "I thank you for your time, warden", the king said coldly as he began walking towards the door. "By the way, you needn't worry about me reclaiming the gold I've given you. You may keep it."

The warden seemed to perk up when he heard that. "Huh? Really?", he said, hopefully.

"Oh, by all means", the king replied without turning around. "It's just a shame you won't be alive to spend any of it. But look on the bright side. Such a bountiful swag should be more than enough to cover the costs of your funeral." The king signaled to his two knights before walking out of the room. No sooner than when their king gave his silent command did the two elf knights brandish their spears and leap forward, intent on inflicting deadly harm on the warden. The warden, seeing what was about to happen, immediately reached down to draw his own weapon and defend himself.

His hand never even made it to the hilt of his sword.

* * *

Ulard stalked angrily out the front gate of the prison and across the beach to the docks where his royal ship was stationed. He was so mad he could taste his own blood in his mouth. It wasn't enough that he actually had to lower himself to the level of actually dealing with humans so he could come here and finally acquire his long sought-after quarry, but _then_ the girl was actually allowed to escape, thanks to the incompetence of the human warden of New Purgatory Island and his idiot guards. And, as if _that_ wasn't enough, the warden and his guards even had the gall to disrespect him to his face. That was the last straw. Immediate and deadly retribution had to be paid, for Ulard was not the kind of man that allowed anyone to get away with disrespecting him. _Especially_ a human.

But although killing that drunken stupid warden was certainly gratifying, it really did little to help alleviate his anger. After years of trying to track down that girl, he thought he'd finally gotten a lucky break. He had eagerly come here with his men, prepared to acquire the girl and officially witness the end of the prolonged search for her that began almost two decades ago. But it seemed his journey here was in vain, as the humans in charge of this prison had already let her get away. Ulard growled under his breath, enraged at this turn of events. When he was a boy, his father had often told him that the two biggest things that were wrong with this world were women and humans. Never before had Ulard agreed with those words more than he did right now.

"Father! Father! Yoo-hoo! Over here!", Ulard heard a distant and familiar nasally voice yell from the left. The king sighed and turned west to see his prissy teenage son, Prince Faustus, running up to him across the beach. Ulard shook his head in disgust at his son's newest outfit; a flamboyant silk suit that was seemingly every color of the rainbow and ruffled about the collar and sleeves. The pants part of the outfit was short-cropped just above his knees. He wore white stockings and a purple satin cape flowed behind him. His hands were covered with lime-green gloves and his feet were adorned with pointy-tipped lime-green shoes. His pointy ears stuck out from under a lime-green hat with a white feather in it that sat on top of his head. The sight of it made Ulard's stomach turn. It often seemed to him as if every day his son put on a new outfit that made him look more and more like a clown.

Prince Faustus ran up to his father and bent over with his hands on his knees, panting loudly. "Fa-father. I have… some news… pertaining to our quarry! Really… _big_ news!", he said, breathlessly. He then lifted his right foot and took off his lime-green shoe. He turned it upside down and a handful of sand poured out of it. "Oh, pooh! Curse this wretched island!", he complained. "If I had known there would be so much sand, I'd have worn my new sandals! Now I'll have to have my stockings cleaned as soon as I get home! Bother!"

"What news do you have, boy?", Ulard snapped impatiently. "Stop wasting my time and tell me what you've found out. _Out_ with it!"

"Y-yes, father", Faustus said, cringing slightly. "Well, after their confrontation with these pathetic human guards, our knights rounded up the humans that had survived the battle and began interrogating them. And they've turned up a rather interesting dish of information. It turns out that our female fugitive did not escape alone. She had an accomplice with her; a bloke that goes by the name of 'Marcello'."

Upon hearing that name, Ulard's eyebrow raised ever so slightly. Even _he_ had heard of Marcello, the well-known former captain of the Templar knights. Supposedly having turned his back on the religious fold about a year ago, he was reputed to have begun roaming the land and honing his sword and sorcery skills to peak perfection. He was also reputed as having been the one who murdered the powerful leader of the Blood Shadow gang. Being able to so efficiently kill a dark wizard like Lord Absom was truly a sign of possessing great power, and as much as Ulard despised humans, when he heard about how Marcello had single handedly destroyed Lord Absom, he could not help but to be impressed. And that wasn't just because Ulard's kingdom and The Blood Shadow organization held a centuries-old grudge against each other.

"Well, well. That _is_ interesting news", the king said, stroking his beard. "Of course, I really don't see how that can help our current situation."

"Wait, father! There's more!", Faustus said, excitedly. "Upon further prodding from our knights, one of the human guards told us that the reason this Marcello fellow was locked up here is because he was deemed by the Lord High Priest himself as being to dangerous to allow to roam about freely. In fact, he was brought here by his own brother, who happens to be the abbot of Maella Abbey no less! Some human that goes by the name of Angelo. Anyhow, the abbot is said to have crossed the warden's fingers with a generous amount of gold, and promised to give him the same every month that he took care of his brother and made sure his needs were well met."

"Hmmm. Curiouser and curiouser", Ulard said thoughtfully. "So, has this abbot yet been sent word that his brother has escaped from prison?"

"Well, one of our knights _did_ intercept one of the guards who was on his way to sailing to Maella Abbey and delivering this message", Faustus replied as he held a scroll out to his father. The king took the scroll, unrolled it, and began reading it. After about a minute an idea came to him and he began to smile. He rolled up the scroll, folded his arms, and looked down at his son.

"Well, it would unfortunately seem that we will once again have to deal with humans", Ulard announced, a twinge of regret in his voice.

"What? _Again?_", his son complained. "Ugh, I've seen more than enough of these lowly maggots in one day to last me a lifetime."

"Yes, I know how you are feeling", Ulard agreed. "But look on the bright side; this time we're going to a famous human monastery. So I'm pretty sure we can expect the abbot of such a place to be a lot more intelligent, or at the very least, a lot more _sober_ than the warden here was." With that, the king turned around and began heading for his royal vessel. "Prepare to set sail for the easternmost continent!", he announced loudly. The elven prince saluted and departed across the beach to announce their new destination to the knights. As King Ulard approached his ship he began to grin in anticipation. It would appear that this wasn't a totally wasted trip after all. For if his new plan went accordingly, he would soon have a powerful new tool to assist him in his search for his quarry: the Templar Knights.

"Soon, my daughter", the king said to himself. "Very soon, we will be reunited at last. And then I will take back what you stole from me, you little bitch. And after that, I will make you suffer ever so slowly. Oh yes, you will suffer for me. We are going to make up for a lot of lost time, you and I."

Ulard licked his lips gleefully as he thought of the many ways he would make his daughter bleed.

* * *

"Thirty eight bottles of beer on the wall!  
Thirty eight bottles of beer!  
Take one down,  
Pass it around,  
Thirty seven bottles of beer on the wall!"

Marcello's lip was curled into a snarl of rage and his eye began to twitch uncontrollably as he leaned against the railing of the boat, trying his damnedest not to turn around and choke the living hell out of Iylea. About five minutes ago she had started singing Ninety Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall, and since then she had not stopped, seemingly intent on annoying Marcello with the whole song. Iylea stood at the helm of the ship with her hands on the steering wheel, jovially singing to the wind and completely oblivious to the fact that Marcello was currently locked in a serious power struggle against his impulse to turn around and murder her. After Iylea reached the twenty fourth bottle of beer in her song Marcello finally snapped, unable to take another verse.

"**_Will you please shut the hell up?"_**, he turned around and yelled at the elf. "**_Dammit! You are the most irritating person I've ever met!"_**

Iylea looked reprehensively at Marcello. "Well excuse me for trying to make the time pass by quicker with a little song", she replied. "I mean, it's not like there's anyone on this boat who's willing to _talk_ to me or anything." Marcello didn't reply. He just inhaled and exhaled sharply, trying his best to stay composed. "Hey Marc, I have an idea!", Iylea said as she bounded over to stand beside Marcello. "How about we play a little game of 'I Spy'? I'll go first, okay?" She looked out over the edge of the boat. "Alright, I spy with my eyes… um… something big, blue, and wet. Can ya guess what it is?"

Marcello looked at her smiling face, pretty sure at this point that she was actually _trying_ to irritate him. "Could it be, the _ocean_?", he asked, his eye beginning to twitch again.

"Good eye, Marc!", Iylea said happily. "Okay, your turn!"

"Alright", Marcello replied as he glared at Iylea. "Hmmm. I spy with _my_ eyes… somebody extremely stupid and annoying whom I'm about to throw off this boat if they don't stop bothering me."

Iylea just folded her arms and shook her head, although her grin did not leave her face. "_Sheesh_, Marc! You have got some _major_ anger issues! What were you locked up in prison for anyway? Excessive grumpiness?"

"What were _you_ locked up for?", Marcello snapped back. "Annoying somebody to death?"

Iylea responded with a cheerful chuckle. "Touche", she said. "Hey, wait a minute. You asked me that before, didn't you? And I never got around to answering you. Well, no time like the present. I guess I'll tell you now. Although, like I said before, it's sort of embarrassing." She leaned over against the railing beside Marcello and looked out into the blue sky. "Actually, I'm a thief", she announced. "I steal all sorts of things; big things, small things, short things, tall things,… you get the idea. Whatever it is, I'll steal it. You know, so long as it's valuable." She cleared her throat and rubbed the back of her neck before continuing. "Anyhoo, I decided to hit upon a really big score. You know, to kind of build my rep. So, I was thinking really hard about what I could steal that would really show off my skills as a thief and bring in such a good payoff that I wouldn't have to steal again for a while. Then it dawned on me. You've heard about that huge new statue of the Goddess they're building at the Isle of Neos? You know, to replace the old one that was destroyed about a year ago?"

Marcello looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one with the huge diamond carved into it?", he asked. When Iylea nodded and smiled sheepishly Marcello just smirked and shook his head. "Don't tell me you actually tried to steal that diamond", he said. "That statue must have at least a hundred Templar knights guarding it. And you actually thought you could get away with trying to steal it? You're an even bigger idiot than I thought. And it's really no mystery now why you were locked up in the lower levels of New Purgatory Island where the most heinous criminals go. Doing what you did must have earned you the title of a heretic and a blasphemer against the church. What's really surprising to me is that they didn't immediately sentence you to be beheaded after they caught you."

Iylea brought her hand up to her throat and gulped. "Yeah, well… they don't have to do _me_ any favors", she said nervously. "Anyway, I was so close to stealing the diamond, but then I slipped off the front of the statue and wound up hanging upside down with my leg snagged in a rope. I hung there for about three hours until one of the Templars standing guard at the foot of the statue happened to look up. Man, talk about embarrassing."

"I can only imagine", Marcello said, rolling his eyes.

"Afterwards, it wasn't long before I was convicted and thrown in prison, where I met you", Iylea continued. She then grinned and hugged Marcello around his waist, startling and enraging him. "So I guess you could say it was fate that sort of brought us together."

Marcello shoved her away. "In that case, I'll have to remember to give 'fate' a piece of my mind later", he grumbled.

"Whatever, Mr. Sourpuss of the Year", Iylea replied cheerfully, undaunted by Marcello's grumpiness. She then began looking out at the sea and scratching her head. "Hmmm. I see we're almost there, but… ah… I just can't shake this feeling. Like there's something really important about this particular location that I just can't remember." Iylea shrugged. "Ah well, I'm sure I'll remember it sooner or later. Can't be _that_ important if it was so easy for me to forget it."

Marcello looked out at the ocean too, and saw that the boat was heading forward to a narrow pass between two mountainous walls of craggy rock. "What do you mean 'we're almost there'? Where exactly is this boat heading?", Marcello asked.

"Well, I thought you'd never ask!", Iylea said. "I'm taking us to my hideout! Well, actually I should be calling it _our_ hideout, since I share it with my gang. Man, wait till I show the guys that I actually know _the_ Marcello! Heh heh, Chloe is gonna be so jealous!"

"Wait a minute", Marcello interrupted in a steely voice. "Whoever said I wanted to go with you to your hideout anyway?"

"Uh… well… I… thought it'd be a nice place for us to wait until the authorities aren't… you know, searching for us so much and everything blows over", Iylea said, seemingly taken aback by Marcello's inquiry.

"I don't need to go to your hideout to do that. I have my own places to hide", Marcello replied. "Take me to the nearest shoreline and drop me off. Then you can go wherever you like."

"Aw come on, Marc!", Iylea whined desperately. "Why can't we just both shack up at my place? Do I annoy you _that_ badly?" When Marcello looked over at her with a raised eyebrow she continued hastily. "Okay, don't answer that. But you know, at least if you go with _me_ you won't be alone. There's safety in numbers, you know. I mean, _think_ about it. Suppose you run into about fifty of those Templar creeps? I know you're pretty awesome with a sword, but I doubt even _you_ would be able to fight them all off."

"I'll manage", Marcello growled. "I can handle as many Templar dogs as Rolo decides to throw at me."

"Oh yeah? Well what are you gonna handle them with? Your charming smile?", Iylea said, her hands on her hips. "I certainly hope you're not counting on your magic skills to help you. Because in case you've forgotten…" Iylea then held up her arm that had the magic seal clasped around it.

Marcello inhaled sharply and looked down at his arm. A familiar and powerful feeling of anger began to rise within him. Truthfully, he _had_ forgotten all about the magic seal on his arm. And at that moment, he had no idea how he would be able to get it off of him. And until he did, he knew that it would be all to easy for any small army of Templar knights to attack him and take him down. Marcello lowered his head and he sighed angrily. He was deeply annoyed with the fact that Iylea was right. If Marcello expected to keep his freedom, then he would have to take as few chances as possible at this point. Which meant rather than traipsing across the land with a magic seal stuck on his arm and a status as a wanted fugitive hanging over his head, he would instead have to opt for finding a place to hide away, quickly.

"So, what do you say, Marc?", Iylea pressed. "My place might not be much, but it sure is a great place for a couple of prison escapees like ourselves to lay low till things blow over. Plus our gang's leader, Ashe, is a really cool guy. He took me in when I was just a wandering leaf blowing in the wind, just so you'll know. He takes good care of his own, so you don't have to worry. If you're a friend of mine, you're a friend of his. Plus he's one of the only people _I_ know that can actually remove a magic seal."

Marcello looked over at Iylea. "What? Did you just say this 'Ashe' fellow could remove a magic seal?", he asked sharply.

"Yeah", Iylea replied. "There have been plenty of times when a pal of his had shown up at our hideout after escaping capture by Templar guards. And a good many of them needed to have magic seals removed from their arms."

"Well why didn't you say that in the first place?", Marcello growled. "Fine. I'll go with you to this hideout of yours."

Iylea grinned, obviously pleased with Marcello's choice. "Well, you don't have to sound so unhappy about it", she said. "Okay! Now that _that's_ settled…" She was interrupted by an alarming sound; the deafeningly loud roar of a huge and ferocious creature. The roar was so loud it shook the boat to it's very core. Before the roar subsided, Marcello had already drawn his sword and was standing in a battle stance.

"What the hell was that?", Marcello asked tensely. Before Iylea could respond, a huge creature bursted up through the waters in front of the boat with a huge splash. It brought it's head forward to hover menacingly over the boat. Marcello was both awed and alarmed; he had never seen such a magnificent and deadly looking creature in his life. It looked like a massive blue reptile that was a cross between a giant helliigator and a giant snake. It's eyes glowed with a wild and eerie light. Huge, sharp teeth protruded from it's drooling mouth.

"Oh! _That's_ what I couldn't remember before!", Iylea said with a snap of her fingers. "There's an uncommonly huge sea dragon that migrated up this way not too long ago to find a mate! So we have to be extremely careful not to bump into it when going this way."

Marcello glared at Iylea. "Well, thank you for the warning, And it seems I've received it not a moment too soon", he said, his voice smooth with sarcasm and thick with anger.

"No time to chat now, Marc!", Iylea replied, drawing her own sword and standing ready to do battle. "It doesn't look like this overgrown gecko is gonna let us go without a fight! Time to put up our dukes!"

"I told you to stop calling me Marc!", Marcello yelled angrily before turning his entire focus back on the sea dragon. The monster reared up and let loose with another loud roar before it lunged forward across the deck of the ship towards Marcello and Iylea.


	5. Chapter Four

**Dragon Quest VIII  
Kingdom of the Elves**

by: Amisha N. Smith

_First off, I wanna thank everyone who gave me such wonderful reviews about my story. I'm glad you like it. Of course, I also welcome criticism and ideas, so feel free to post those too! You're probably wondering why I hadn't updated in such a long time. Well, the ugly truth is I had writer's block. Don't get me wrong, I know how the story's supposed to go. It's just that sometimes I have a little problem putting it into words. Aurgh, so annoying! Oh well, at least I was able to finally finish this chapter. Now, let's continue…_

**Chapter Four**

Marcello leaped nimbly to the side as the gigantic sea dragon charged towards him, just barely avoiding being crushed by its powerful jaws. The sea dragon roared as it sailed past him, angry that it had missed its target. It turned around to make another attempt at snagging its quarry. But Marcello had already predicted its move and was more than ready for it. By the time the sea dragon had made a one-eighty and was charging for him again Marcello was already running across the deck of the boat straight towards it, preparing to unleash a nasty counterattack of his own.

_I'd better show this beast who's boss, and quickly_, he thought to himself. _There is no way I'm going to wind up as some overgrown lizard's lunch._ He ran right up to the front of the sea dragon and, moving his arm with blinding speed unrivaled by any known human or monster, slashed the beast open straight across its snout. The monster, now bleeding heavily from the front of its nose, roared in anger and surprise and slithered backwards in a quick retreat. It eyed Marcello with an icy glare of pure hatred.

_Is that all this monster's got?_, Marcello thought as he smirked at the sea dragon. _Hm, this may be easier than I thought._ Without taking his eyes off the sea dragon, he used his peripheral vision to search to his left and right for Iylea, who seemed to have disappeared. _Where is that girl?_, Marcello wondered. _Hmph, probably hiding somewhere. Bah, whatever. As long as she's not in my wa…_ Marcello's thoughts were interrupted as the sea dragon suddenly reared up and roared so loudly the entire earth seemed to quake under its fury. It then began to thrash its body about wildly on the deck of the boat. And that's when Marcello saw Iylea, riding on the sea dragon's back and holding on to it for dear life by the hilt of her sword, which she had plunged deep into the monster's spine.

"_Whooooa!"_, Iylea yelled as she rode atop the enraged and tormented monster that was trying desperately to throw her off. "Okay Marc, I got him right where we want him! Quick! Use your sword to finish him off!"

"Are you _insane_? What the hell are you _doing_?", Marcello yelled at her.

"What else? Holding the dragon down so you can take him out!", Iylea yelled back as she clung desperately to her sword and tried her best not to get thrown off. "Come on, Marc! Hurry up and cut its throat! I can't hold him much longer!"

_That elf-girl is completely mad_, Marcello thought to himself. Nevertheless, he didn't waste any time taking advantage of the opportunity Iylea had just given him. He rushed forward and began slicing the sea dragon under its head right around it's jugular area. His sword raked across the beast's incredibly hard scales, hardly making any penetration at all. Marcello's brow furrowed in irritation as he danced around the deck of the boat, trying to keep within striking distance of the thrashing sea dragon's throat. He knew Iylea wouldn't be able to hold on to the monster forever, so he had to work as quickly as possible to take the sea dragon down.

"Whoa!", Iylea yelled in alarm as the sea dragon suddenly began to swing the upper half of it's body wildly through the air in a last-ditch effort to rid itself of the elf-girl torturing him. Marcello backed way off from the erratically moving beast, knowing that there was no way he'd be able to cut its throat now. "Yikes! I'm slipping!", Marcello heard Iylea yell desperately. With one last powerful swing and a quick jerk to the left from its midsection the monster finally threw Iylea off and sent her flying… straight towards Marcello. "_Aaaah! Look out!"_, Iylea cried out. Marcello knew instantly that there was no way he'd be able to move fast enough to avoid Iylea slamming into him, so he braced himself for the inevitable impact. Iylea's body slammed into his at full speed and they both flew backwards several feet before finally crashing into the wooden door of the captain's mess.

"Urgh", Marcello groaned as he lay dazed on the ground, a million stars dancing in his eyes. "That hurt." He blinked, trying to regain control of all his senses. The back of his head had crashed hard into the door behind him, almost knocking him unconscious. Suddenly the angry roar of the sea dragon immediately brought all his senses back to him at full force. He certainly didn't have time to be laying on the ground dazed and confused. Because as long as that sea dragon was on the boat, his life was in serious jeopardy. He tried to get up and was startled to find he couldn't; something heavy was laying across his midsection and pinning him to the ground.

"Aw man", Marcello heard Iylea say in a weak and dazed voice. "What a ride. Marc, do me a favor. Next time I get the idea to do something crazy like that, remind me of what just happened here. Please."

"Get off of me, you numbskull!", Marcello snapped as he pushed Iylea's body off of his abdomen. He quickly got to his feet and back into his battle stance, re-focusing his attention back on the sea dragon. At that moment the beast's head was turned as it was busy trying to pull Iylea's sword out of it's spine with it's massive teeth.

"Whoa. Look at how much it's bleeding", Iylea said as she finally got back on her feet beside Marcello. "I'll bet that wound will slow him down a lot, too." She began dusting herself off. There was a proud look on her face. "Heh, not too shabby, if I do say so myself."

Marcello sneered in response to Iylea's bragging. "Oh yes. _Excellent_ work, fool", he said sarcastically. "You didn't manage to mortally wound or even slightly cripple the beast. But you _did_ manage to hurt it enough to anger it tremendously, making it even more dangerous to deal with than it was before." At that instant, the sea dragon finally pulled Iylea's sword completely out of it's spine. It then spat the weapon overboard and into the sea before turning around and eyeing both Marcello and Iylea with boundless hatred and fury. "And now it appears you no longer even have a sword with which to defend yourself against the huge monster you've just pissed off", Marcello continued. "Not too shabby, indeed."

"Okay! I get the message, already! I screwed up!", Iylea said as she backed up and eyed the enraged sea dragon warily. "So, ah, it looks like I'm not going to be able to help you out much for the rest of this battle."

"Thank you for helping me to see the bright side of the situation", Marcello retorted. "If you want to stay alive, just stay behind me and don't take your eyes off of the sea dragon. And _don't_ get in my way. Got it?"

"Why, Marc! If I didn't know any better, I'd swear up and down that you were offering to be my bodyguard!", Iylea said as she batted her eyelids and smiled coyly at Marcello. "You ol' flirt, you!" Marcello didn't respond. He just sighed inwardly and gritted his teeth as he tried to refocus his attention entirely on the sea dragon. It wasn't enough that now he had to deal with the sea dragon _and_ protect Iylea at the same time, but the annoying elf couldn't help but make it worse by irritating him yet more. _Dammit, I'll be so glad when we finally get to this hideout of hers_, Marcello thought to himself. _Then her friend what's-his-name can get this magic seal off of my arm and I can finally part ways with this idiotic lunatic._ The sea dragon bared its fangs and stared at them for a long time, as if trying to decide which one to attack first. It then opened its jaws so wide every fang in its mouth was visible. At first Marcello thought the beast was about to roar again, but then he saw a bright light beginning to emerge from the back of its throat…

"Quick! Look away!", Marcello yelled as he put his hand over his eyes and turned his head.

"Huh? Look away?", Iylea said inquisitively. "But I thought you just told me not to take my eyes off…" That was as far as Iylea got before a bright light exploded from the sea dragon's mouth, seeming to engulf everything within at least fifty miles of the boat with a light brighter than the sun. It was so bright that Marcello could practically see it even through his closed eyelids. "**_Aaaaaurgghhh! My eyes! I'm blind!"_**, he heard Iylea scream, and instantly he knew that Iylea did not avert her gaze when he told her to, thus allowing herself to fall victim to the sea dragon's gigaflash attack. He opened his eyes and looked over at Iylea, who was fumbling around with her eyes squeezed shut and her arms held out awkwardly in front of her. "Marc, help!", Iylea screamed. "I-I can't _see_! Hey, where are you? Gimme a hand, already! I'm in the dark, here!" Marcello just growled in irritation and anger. _That girl is the sort of stupid that stupid people look to for inspiration_, he thought as he shook his head and looked at Iylea with disdain. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the sea dragon begin charging towards them. He quickly reached over and grabbed Iylea by her wrist and ran back towards the captain's mess. He opened the door and shoved Iylea inside, then ran in behind her and closed the door. Just less than a second after he barred the door he heard the sea dragon crash into it from the other side.

_Phew. That was close_, Marcello thought to himself. He heard the gigantic beast roar in frustration and rage and then a loud, repetitive banging ensued as the monster began ramming it's head into the door over and over. Wood chips began flying off of the door and it creaked and cracked as the monster slowly yet steadily did damage to it. The door was already beginning to bend inward from where the sea dragon kept slamming into it. Marcello knew that it was only a matter of minutes before the sea dragon destroyed the door and was able to invade the captain's mess and finish them off. _Dammit! I have to do something!_, he thought as he looked around frantically for ideas. He saw Iylea sitting in a chair at the table in the middle of the room, rubbing her eyes. "Ugh, I still can't see a _thing_!", he heard her say in a desperate and almost tearful voice "Oh Goddess, _please_ don't let this be permanent."

"Get a grip, you idiot. It's not permanent", Marcello growled as he continued to look around the cabin. "You will regain your eyesight within an hour at the longest. So shut up your belly-aching so I can _think_, already!" He looked up at the south corner of the room and saw a ladder leading up to a trap door in the ceiling. He smiled as an idea suddenly came to him of how to finish that gigantic beast off for good. "Listen, fool. I'm going to go rid ourselves of that overgrown lizard once and for all", Marcello announced. "You stay inside this cabin. Understood?"

"Yeah, sure", Iylea responded, still rubbing her eyes. "I mean, it's not like I could leave if I _wanted_ to. I can't even see the _door_." Without another word, Marcello ran to the south side of the cabin and climbed the ladder up to the trap door on the ceiling. He undid the latch and crawled outside to the roof of the captain's mess. He could still her the loud banging and feel the trembling vibrations of the sea dragon still banging it's head against the cabin door. _Hm. Persistent, much?_, Marcello thought to himself. He crawled slowly forward to the north end of the roof and carefully peered over the edge to watch the monster still going at it. He could hear the crunch of the cabin door finally beginning to give way to the monster's constant abuse. Slowly Marcello drew his sword and stood up. He held the sword outwards with the tip of the blade aimed downwards at the sea dragon's skull. _Alright. It's now or never._ Bracing himself, he jumped high into the air over the sea dragon's head and swooped down, the blade of his sword still aimed downwards. With a loud warrior's cry he thrust his sword downwards, and was rewarded when gravity and the force of his arms helped the blade of his weapon penetrate the skull of the beast and go straight down into it's brain. The sea dragon raised its head and roared louder and longer than it had ever roared before. Marcello just stood on top of its head, still pushing downward on the hilt of his sword. Finally, after a few long seconds, the monster's roar died down to a death gurgle. _Heh, it's over_, Marcello thought with a wicked smile. _Perhaps in the next life you'll pick your foes more carefully, stupid beast._

The sea dragon tottered for a few seconds, looking as if it might fall over. But then something Marcello never expected happened. The sea dragon suddenly reared up and shot high into the air. Marcello was more than a little surprised as he watched the boat under him grow smaller as the sea dragon carried him further and further into the air. _What the hell is this monster up to?_, Marcello wondered. _Shouldn't it be dead by now?_As if in response to Marcello's thoughts, the sea dragon suddenly stopped rising into the air. It gave one last roar that sounded weak and relenting, then breathed it's final breath and turned downward and started plunging head-first towards the boat. They began falling so fast that Marcello could hear the air going by him whistle sharply as he and the sea dragon fell from the sky. _I don't believe it!_, Marcello thought, shocked as he figured out the sea dragon's final move. _With it's last breath, it's trying to crash into the boat and destroy it!_ As Marcello watched himself falling closer and closer to the boat, he couldn't help but to be somewhat impressed with the sea dragon's last desperate move. _Even as it dies, it is still determined to eliminate me. Perhaps it wasn't such a dumb beast, after all_, he thought with a smirk. He closed his eyes and braced his entire body…

* * *

Iylea sat in the chair and rapidly blinked her eyes, relieved that her eyesight was beginning to return to her. It was still a little blurry, but a bit sharper than it had been a few seconds ago and _much_ better than it had been when she couldn't see anything at all. "Boy, _that_ was a huge scare", Iylea said to herself. "The next time Marc tells me to look away, you'd better believe I'm gonna look away." She stood up from the table and walked over to the door of the cabin. It had been about a couple of minutes since the sound of the sea dragon ramming itself against the door ceased, and after that came total silence. She reached up to take the bar off the badly damaged door and was startled when the entire door suddenly fell off its hinges and forward onto the ground with a loud bang.

"Whoa", Iylea said with a whistle. "If the warden of New Purgatory Island ever gets his boat back, he's gonna be _pissed_. I hope his insurance covers acts by psychotic monsters." She walked cautiously out onto the deck of the boat and looked around. But she didn't see Marcello or the sea dragon anywhere. _What the heck is going on? Where's Marc?_, Iylea wondered. Suddenly a frightening thought hit her. What if the sea dragon won the battle? What if it killed Marcello, ate him, and then jumped back into the ocean and swam away, satisfied with it's meal? "No! I won't believe that! There's no way Marcello could lose to that overgrown gecko!", Iylea said determinedly. She ran to the side of the boat and peered over the railing, trying to see if there was any sign of Marcello or the sea dragon in the water. But no such luck. All she saw was a small school of fish swimming past the boat near the surface. There was no other sign of life anywhere. That's when doubt truly began to set into Iylea's mind. What if the sea dragon truly _had_ proven to be too much for Marcello to handle? What if Marcello truly _was_ dead? Tears began forming at the corners of Iylea's eyes. _Ugh! Marc was right! I am a useless idiot!_, Iylea thought in despair. _If only I hadn't been so stupid and gotten my stupid self blinded by that stupid sea dragon, I would have been able to bring my stupid ass out here and help him fight it off! This so totally sucks!_ Suddenly she heard something coming from above her. She titled her head skyward to behold…

"Holy… _crap_!", was all she could manage to say before the dead sea dragon crashed into the boat in the middle of the deck. The impact literally split the entire boat in two and threw Iylea several feet into the air. "_Whoooaaaaa!"_, Iylea yelled as she flew high into the air, then came falling down to splash into the ocean. The impact as she hit the water was hard, and if the ocean hadn't been so cold it could have knocked her unconscious. _Whoa! What the hell was that?_, Iylea wondered as she floated beneath the surface of the ocean. She looked over to her right and saw the boat she and Marcello had been passengers on, split in half and slowly sinking to the bottom of the sea. But it was what was beside the ruined boat that truly interested her. The body of the sea dragon was slowly sinking beside the boat. Iylea could easily tell the beast was dead. It wasn't moving at all and Marcello's sword was buried deep in it's skull. And floating face down and unconscious above the sea dragon and just a few yards beneath the surface of the ocean was Marcello himself. Iylea wasted no time in swimming over to him. She wrapped her arms around his torso and swam upward as fast as she could. It seemed like an eternity went by before her head finally busted through the surface of the ocean to the sweet oxygen in the air above. While she was catching her breath she immediately began lifting Marcello's head up above water. She was relieved when Marcello began to cough and then breathe steadily.

"Geez, Marc. You sure are heavy", Iylea said as she struggled to maintain her grip on him. She leaned backwards and let the upper half of Marcello's body rest on hers as she floated on her back. She began to contemplate their current predicament as they bobbed in the waves. They were totally stranded, floating dead in the water. Their boat was completely gone, and they no longer even had weapons to defend themselves with. If a monster was to show up and attack them now they'd have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and no way to protect themselves. All they would be able to do was die. And Marcello being unconscious certainly wasn't helping matters much.

"Yep. We're screwed", Iylea said to herself. She sighed as she looked at the clouds above them, praying to the Goddess or whatever deity was watching them that she and Marcello would be able to make it out of this mess alive. "I sure hope we don't run into any sharks", Iylea said as she looked nervously around. She suddenly glimpsed something red floating just behind her shoulder. She turned to see what it was and was pleasantly surprised. "A signal flare!", she exclaimed. "It must have floated up from the wrecked boat! Oh, _yes_!" She reached out and grabbed the small stick. She pointed it up into the sky and pressed the small bottom on the bottom of it. A fiery red bolt shot out of it straight upwards into the sky and then exploded into a huge red flower of fireworks. "Okay, now we just kick back and hope somebody saw the distress signal", Iylea said. "Don't worry, Marc. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Ungh", Marcello groaned in his sleep. "M… mother… I… promise…"

_Oh, he must be having that dream about his mom again_, Iylea thought as she looked at Marcello. _Hmm, I wonder what it's all about? Nah, better not go there. He'd probably bite my head off if I even thought about asking him about it. Poor guy, he sure looks miserable when he's having that dream._ She watched in silence as Marcello groaned in his sleep for a few minutes longer. Suddenly she heard something she was all too happy to hear; the sound of somebody yelling in the distance. She brought her head up and looked to her east to behold a small boat about twenty yards away. A person was standing up in the middle of the boat and waving.

"Alright! We are so rescued!", Iylea said jovially as she began swimming on her back towards the boat. She treaded about eight feet of water before she wound up almost completely exhausted. "Ugh! This is harder than I thought! Marc, remember when I said you were heavy? Well, I take it back. You're not heavy. You're _unbelievably_ heavy!" She leaned her head back and looked north and saw to her relief that the boat was moving towards them. Her brow furrowed as she studied the boat. Now that she was closer to it, it looked awfully familiar to her…

"Iylea?", said an even more familiar voice coming from inside the small boat. "Iylea, is that _you_?"

_No way_, Iylea thought. _It couldn't be…_ As the boat floated up beside her she saw that it was indeed her good friend Chloe, a red-headed young beauty about Iylea's age and also a fellow female member of the gang Iylea belonged to.

"Chloe! It _is_ you!", Iylea crowed happily. "Oh boy, are you a sight for sore eyes! I've never been so glad to see that rickety boat of yours in my entire life!"

"Iylea! I don't _believe_ it!", Chloe crowed just as happily. "_Whoa!_ This is so… I mean… I thought you had landed in prison! What happened? How'd you get _here_?" She then looked down at Marcello, who was still sleeping soundly on Iylea's chest. "Er, I hope you don't mind my asking, but who the heck is _that_?", she inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh, well, it's a long story", Iylea said. "Why don't you pull us up on the boat and get us to the hideout? I'll explain everything on the way."

"_Us?_ As in you _and_ him?", Chloe responded in a cautionary tone. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Iylea. Ashe isn't back at the hideout right now. He's been gone for about a couple of weeks now, and he's left you-know-who in charge."

"Aw, crap. Not _him_", Iylea said, rolling her eyes and pouting. "Well, I guess I'll have no choice but to deal with him when I get there. I mean, it's not like I can just leave my new buddy here to die."

Chloe shrugged and reached down to help Iylea pull Marcello onto the boat. "Okay, your funeral", she said. Once Marcello was on the boat she reached down and pulled Iylea up as well. Iylea collapsed on her back beside Marcello's sleeping form, out of breath and almost completely out of energy. "Whew! Thanks, Chloe! You're a pal and a half! You always did know when to show up!"

"Ah, you're welcome. Heck, what are best friends for?", Chloe said, grinning. "Now, are you gonna tell me how you wound up stranded in the middle of the ocean, or what?" She then looked down at Marcello. "And what's the story with sleeping beauty, here?"

Iylea sat up and brushed her blonde hair out of her face. "Alright, brace yourself", she said as she grinned at Chloe. "Because you are not gonna believe this."


	6. Chapter Five

**Dragon Quest VIII  
Kingdom of the Elves**

by: Amisha N. Smith

_Whew! This chapter was a doozy to write! I'm sorry for not updating for such a long while. It's just that I've been so busy trying to edit and reedit this chapter. I really don't want to release a lack-luster chapter of this story. So I work hard to make sure I don't. By the way, another reason it took me so long to update is because I went and wrote two chapters at the same time. So, expect a quick update after this one. (Yay!) Now, back to the tale…_

**Chapter Five**

Alone, bored to tears, and angry at his misfortune, Ebert stood at the open window to the huge room he shared with many other orphans at Maella Abbey and stared out across the seemingly endless green plains. He wished more than anything that he was out there, brandishing a sword and fighting evil at Abbot Angelo's side, just like a real templar knight. But instead here he was, sentenced but the abbot himself to spend no less than three months rotting away behind the walls of this huge monastery. Being grounded for as long as one week would be no less than sheer torture for any active twelve year old boy. So it was no wonder that Ebert saw his sentence of a ninety day penitence as a fate worse than death.

Ebert sighed as he gazed with a heavy heart at the clouds in the distant horizon. It has now been over two weeks ago since that night he had tried yet miserably failed to prove to the abbot once and for all that he had what it takes to be a templar. That night, the abbot and his templars had finally cornered the infamous criminal Marcello at Peregrin Quay. Or so they _thought_. It turned out that Marcello had proven to be a bit too much for the templars and even the abbot to handle. He had single-handedly defeated the templar captain and his men, and was even going to kill Abbot Angelo. In fact, he probably _would_ have, if Ebert hadn't made his grand entrance and challenged Marcello himself. Truth be told, Ebert did have a feeling he was sorely outmatched. But it was also true that if Ebert hadn't interfered, not only would the abbot had more than likely been murdered, but the Cloud Skipper would never have crashed into Marcello, thus knocking him unconscious and giving the templars a chance to finally subdue him. In essence, it was _Ebert_ who had been ultimately responsible for Marcello's capture. And how does the abbot thank him? By sentencing him to serve a three month penitence within the walls of Maella Abbey, that's how. Ebert sulked as his mood grew even darker. How was he supposed to prove his worth as a templar knight to the abbot when the abbot refused to look at the proof when it was right in front of him?

"Well well, if it isn't everyone's favorite baby templar", said a familiar and obnoxious voice behind him, cutting into his thoughts. "What's the matter, _Dweebert_? Still crying because the abbot grounded you?"

"Leave me alone, Ethan", Ebert snapped irritably without turning around. He was already in a foul mood, and being heckled by his annoying rival would do nothing to brighten his day. Ever since the day Ethan arrived as an orphan at Maella Abbey, just one week after Ebert did, he had never wasted an opportunity to bully Ebert mercilessly. That's because Ethan and Ebert were bitter rivals since the moment they met. For although Ethan was almost Ebert's complete opposite in appearance (Ethan is one head taller, very chubby, and has sandy blonde hair), both boys shared the same dream: To become the greatest templar knight ever. Ethan even wore a small child-sized templar outfit, just like Ebert did. Only his was green and a bit small for his frame. But that didn't stop Ethan from throwing his weight about and trying to lord it over the other children at the abbey like he was already captain of the templars.

"Hey, no need to get pissed off at _me_ just because the abbot busted your balls", Ethan taunted Ebert with a smirk. "I mean, it's your own fault for being such a dumbass. What the hell made you think you could capture Marcello all by yourself anyway? Geez, you're such a loser."

Ebert turned and glared at Ethan, his eyes flashing. "I am _not_ a _loser_", he yelled. "And for your information, I _did_ take down Marcello. _And_ I even saved the abbot. And _all by myself_, too."

Ethan doubled over with laughter. "Yeah _right_, Dweebert. As _if_. Just keep dreaming, loser. Like everyone doesn't know the abbot had to save your worthless butt."

"That's not true", Ebert snapped, getting angrier and angrier.

"Just admit it", Ethan continued his bullying with a huge grin on his face. He was thoroughly enjoying himself; just as he did every other time he managed to enrage Ebert. "Marcello was about to totally annihilate you, and the abbot had to step in and save you. Just like the baby you are."

Ebert clenched and unclenched his fists as he eyes Ethan with sheer contempt. He wished he could run over and sock the fat sod right in his jaw. But he knew that wouldn't be a very good idea for two reasons. One reason was that that he was already in more than enough hot water with the abbot as it was, and starting a fight with Ethan wouldn't do much except get him into more trouble. The other reason was that Ethan was one year older and at least one and a half heads taller than he was, _and_ he was uncommonly strong as well. Which meant that Ethan could more than likely beat the crap out of him with ease.

"You know what?", Ebert said in a steely voice as he folded his arms and glared at Ethan square in his eyes. "You can make fun of me all you want. But at least _I_ had the guts to go out there and _try_ to prove myself a worthy templar, unlike some fat obnoxious slobs around here. But then, I guess you're just not man enough to face danger like I am."

"Watch it, punk", Ethan growled. "Remember who you're talking to. I could smash you like a bug."

"Oh yeah?", Ebert countered with a smirk. "What are you gonna do? _Sit_ on me?"

Ethan's face turned purple with rage. "That's it. You are dead dork-meat." Ethan reached forward and lunged at Ebert. Ebert saw what was about to happen and tried to dodge and run past Ethan. But he wasn't quite quick enough. Ethan snagged him by his collar on the front of his shirt and raised him into the air.

"Got any last words, Dweebert?", Ethan asked as he sneered up at his prey.

"Ungh! H-hey! Lemme go, you big jerk!", Ebert yelled as he struggled to break free of Ethan's grip.

"What's going on? Are you two fighting _again_?", an exasperated voice said from the doorway, interrupting their scuffle. Upon hearing the voice, Ethan immediately released Ebert and let him fall on his butt.

"Ow", Ebert said as he got up, rubbing his backside. "It wasn't my fault, Erica. Ethan started it."

"No way!", Ethan shot out. "You lying little dork! It was _you_ who started this mess by calling me names!"

Shaking her head as she looked at the two quarreling boys, Erica entered the room with a telescope under her arm. The twelve year old girl was an aspiring astronomer and had planned to use the huge window in this room to try to catch an early glimpse of Ramia's Comet during the daytime. Unfortunately, Ebert and Ethan seemed to have chosen this particular room as their new battlefield, so it looked like she wouldn't get to go stargazing in peace and quiet.

"Gimme a _break_, guys", Erica said as she rolled her eyes upward and sighed. "So what were you two fighting about _this_ time?"

Ebert looked down at his feet, his cheeks turning red. "Uh… um…", he began, unable to even look at the girl whom he'd had a crush on since the day he'd arrived at Maella Abbey. Erica had long red hair, pretty big green eyes, and small freckles on her cheeks. She ever wore glasses, just like Ebert did. But Ebert felt that, unlike himself, Erica actually looked cute in glasses. She also wore a child-sized templar outfit much like Ethan's and Ebert's, only hers was white. She too aspired to become a great templar knight as well as an astronomer someday, and the first female templar in history as well. One of her biggest motivations was that she had a huge crush on Abbot Angelo and, much like Ebert, wanted desperately to prove her worth to him.

"Look, it's none of your business what we were fighting about. You got that?", Ethan said menacingly to Erica. "So why don't you just make like a bakery wagon and haul bread, eh?"

Erica rolled her eyes again. "That's 'make like a bakery wagon and haul _buns_', you pot-bellied pea-brain", she replied. Ebert started laughing.

"Shut up!", Ethan yelled. "You think you can act all wise just because you've been here at the abbey longer than any of the rest of us! You think that makes you a leader, or something! Well guess what, skirt? You ain't the boss of me!"

Erica just shook her head. "That's not true", she said. "I never said I was _anybody's_ leader. And I never said I was wiser than anybody else, either. It's just that I've been here since I was five, and I know a lot more about the rules of Maella Abbey than you ever will. Maybe if you'd listen to me you wouldn't get into so much trouble all the time." She then turned to address Ebert. "Speaking of trouble, what the heck possessed you to go after that criminal Marcello anyway? Don't you know how dangerous he is? Heck, even when he was living here in Maella Abbey, mostly everybody was afraid of him! I still can't believe you did it! Don't you know you could have gotten yourself killed?"

Ebert's cheeks grew redder and he shrugged his shoulders. "Um… well, I… er… _ahem_. So, ah, what's with the telescope?"

Erica looked down at the telescope in surprise as if just remembering she had it. "Oh _this?_ Well, I was gonna come in here and use the window to see if I can spot Ramia's Comet. It only comes around once every ten years, so I really want to see it. I know most people wait till nighttime to try and see it, but I wanna find out if my telescope is powerful enough to let me see it in the daytime. You know, sort of like an early preview."

"Bo-ring", Ethan interrupted with a yawn. "Geez, only a girl would be interested in something dumb like that."

Erica just pushed past Ethan with her nose in the air. "Well Ethan, I suppose if it was a cheeseburger flying through the air instead of a comet, you'd be more interested", she retorted as she began setting up her telescope at the window. Ebert doubled over, cracking up. Ethan, however, was not amused.

"That's not funny!", Ethan yelled angrily. "I'm gonna go tell the abbot you're making fun of me! You'll be sorry!"

"Whoa!", Erica suddenly exclaimed as she looked out the window. "Guys, check it out! You gotta come see this!"

"Huh? What is it, Erica? Do you see the comet?", Ebert asked.

"N-no! It's not that!", Erica said excitedly. "Just come look! We have… company!"

Intrigued, Ebert went over to the window and looked out to behold… "Whoa! What the heck…?", was all he could say when he laid eyes on the spectacle below. Just outside the huge wooden doors to the entrance to Maella Abbey were what looked to be nine men on white, elegant horses. They were in a tight formation of three rows of three. The three men on the front and back rows all held spears and wore exquisite looking suits of what looked to be mythril armor. They each looked strong enough to take on an entire army by themselves. Ebert's eyes grew wide as he observed them, clearly impressed. _Now these guys are warriors_, he thought to himself as he pondered where they came from and why they were here. And as for the middle row…

"Hey, who's that guy in the middle?", Erica wondered out loud as she looked at the guy on horseback in the centermost position of the formation. He wore black armor, a fancy black cape, and a golden crown on his head. "He must be royalty or something. Hm, I wonder what he's doing here. Do you think he came to see the abbot?"

"Who the heck is the guy dressed like a freak?", said Ethan, who was standing behind Ebert and Erica and trying to see what was going on. He observed the flamboyant colorful clothes and the ridiculous looking feathered hat of the young man on horseback directly right of the centermost man and snickered. "If that guy in the middle is royalty, then the guy beside him must be the court jester", he said with a laugh.

Ebert said nothing as he continued to stare at the group of men. There was something about them that was definitely… different. It wasn't just the armor and clothes they were wearing. It was something else…

"Hey, you guys!", Ebert exclaimed as he finally noticed what was so different about the men. "Look at their ears!" Ethan and Erica looked and noticed that their ears were long and pointed.

"Oh my gosh!", Erica cried gleefully. "Elves!"

"No way", Ethan said in a flat voice. "Elves aren't real. Those are probably just costume pieces. These guys are probably just a troupe of traveling actors that came to the abbey to perform. Yeah, I'll bet that's what they are."

"Elves _are_ real", Ebert replied. "Don't you remember the stories the abbot told us? About how when he was on a journey to vanquish Rhapthorne he had met two of them?"

"Shyeah, right", Ethan said, rolling his eyes. "Those were just bedtime stories that only babies like _you_ would believe."

"But they _aren't_ just stories", Erica said hotly. "Everybody knows that Abbot Angelo saved the whole world from Rhapthorne's evil. So you can just shove it, Ethan."

Ethan folded his arms and snickered. "Yeah, and your boyfriend the abbot did it all by himself, right?"

Erica's face turned red with embarrassment and anger. "I never said he did", she snapped. "And I never said he was my boyfriend either, you jerk. I'm just saying…"

Erica was interrupted when the guard on the left side of the man in the center raised his hand and called out: "Residents of Maella Abbey! His Majesty, King Ulard of the elven kingdom of Xhaidenia, requests an audience with the abbot of this monastery on a very urgent matter!"

_Xhaidenia?_, Ebert thought to himself. _I've never heard of a place like that. Not even when the abbot was telling us stories of all the strange places he'd been to on his travels._

"See?", Erica gloated to Ethan. "He said _elven_ kingdom. Which means they really _are_ elves. And that guy in the middle must be their king."

"Whatever", Ethan said, rolling his eyes. "I still say it's a bunch of bull."

Ebert just watched as the doors to Maella Abbey opened and Bathos, the tall, lean, and muscular captain of the templar knights, emerged to greet the strange newcomers. Bathos was accompanied by two templar grunts who were flanking him, and after exchanging a few words with the king he sent one of the grunts inside to announce the Xhaidenians' arrival to the abbot. An idea flashed through Ebert's mind and he grinned. He turned and walked over to the brick wall in the small space between his and another child's bed.

"Ebert!", Erica said sharply, her voice full of reprimand. "Are you gonna go spy on the abbot again?"

"It's the only real way we're gonna find out what's going on", Ebert replied. He searched the wall until he found the one brick that was colored differently from the others and pushed on it. It sank deep into the wall and then, with a loud rumble, the wall itself suddenly sank inward and moved aside, revealing the secret passageway that Ebert had found quite by accident just one month after arriving at the abbey. He had found it while he was alone in the room, trying to find a way to hang a picture on the wall. The only one he had told about it was Erica, as she was the only friend he had made at the abbey at that time. Ethan had found out about it when he came into the room to bully Ebert and spied him opening the passageway. Ebert had to promise Ethan his dessert for a whole month to keep him quiet about it. The beginning of the passageway led immediately to a narrow, dusty staircase going upward which in turn led to small openings in the floors of the maze-like passageway through which Ebert could look and spy on just about anybody in any room; including the abbot in his office.

Ebert walked into the passageway and turned back to look at Erica. "Are you coming?", he asked.

"Yeah, I'm coming", Ethan said as he walked forward.

"I wasn't talking to _you_", Ebert snapped at Ethan. "And no, you're not invited."

"I didn't ask, _Dweebert_", Ethan sneered as he pushed Ebert aside and entered the passageway. Ebert glared at him for a few seconds before looking at Erica again. "Well?", he asked.

Erica waited for a few seconds before sighing and walking forward. "I'm only going along to make sure you two don't wind up fighting again", she said.

* * *

"Hey Dweebert, how much longer?", Ethan asked as he and Erica followed Ebert through the narrow passageway.

"For the last time, stop _calling_ me that", Ebert yelled. "We're almost there, so quit your whining. No one asked _you_ to come along anyway."

Erica was silent as the three of them walked onward. She looked around, extremely nervous and impatient. There were two kinds of places she hated: Dark places and places that were small and narrow. And this secret passageway was _both_. Although she didn't admit it, the real reason she came along was because she was just as curious about what was going on with the elves as Ebert was. But now, as her claustrophobia began to take hold of her as she followed the boys through the passageway, she began to regret her decision.

"Hey! Check it out!", Ethan said as he pointed to some holes on the ground in front of them. There were many of them and they were in sets of two, perfect for a pair of eyes to look through. Light emanated upward from the spy holes. Ethan walked forward, got down on his belly, and looked through one of the pairs of holes. "I knew it! It's the kitchen! I could tell because I can smell french fries", Ethan said. "Aw _man_. They're making broccoli for dinner again. I _hate_ broccoli."

"Would you get up off your fat stomach and get your mind off of food for a change?", Ebert said, annoyed. "Those aren't the spy holes we're looking for." Ebert walked forward past Ethan and turned left when a corridor branched westward off the main passageway. The corridor led to a dead end, where there were more spy holes on the floor. "Hey guys, this is it! Come over here!", he called out. He then laid belly-down on the ground and put his face up to one of the pairs of spy holes. He saw Abbot Angelo seated behind his desk in his office right below him. _Good. We're getting a perfect view_, Ebert thought as he felt Erica and Ethan settling down to their own spy holes right beside him. A few seconds later the three children saw Captain Bathos walk briskly into the Abbot's quarters. Ebert smiled. It was showtime.

* * *

"Sir", Bathos addressed Angelo with a salute. "The elven king is waiting outside of your office. He is ready to speak with you."

Angelo nodded. "Show him in, Bathos", he said. The captain bowed, then walked outside the office and made a gesture to the right for someone to enter. It was then that Angelo was treated to quite a sight. Into his quarters strolled a mammoth of a male elf with blonde hair and a long blonde beard. He was wearing fancy looking clothes and armor and a golden jewel-studded crown upon his head. Angelo might have been impressed into awe if it weren't for the fact that he could somehow feel darkness and negativity emanating from the royal elf. The elf's eyes also seemed to give him away; they were cold and cruel. The elf king walked up to Angelo's desk, smiled pleasantly, and gave a small yet dignified nod. Angelo watched him very closely, not fooled for a second by this elf-man's attempt to feign politeness. Something about his very aura was making Angelo's skin crawl.

"Greetings, esteemed abbot. It is an honor making your acquaintance", the king said in a smooth voice. "Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am King Ulard, ruler of the elven Kingdom of Xhaidenia."


	7. Chapter Six

**Dragon Quest VIII  
Kingdom of the Elves**

by: Amisha N. Smith

_First off, I'd like to apologize. I know I promised a quick update to this story, but the problem is that my computer is in the shop as of now. So I have to type all this stuff up elsewhere. Bummer. If it wasn't for my computer crashing and burning, I'd have had this up about a week ago. Oh well, no use crying over spilt milk. Let's continue our tale, shall we?_

**Chapter Six**

Angelo and King Ulard were silent as they looked at each other for a few seconds. Both men wore an expressionless look on their faces as they studied the other, seemingly trying to catch anything that might give away the thoughts of the other while at the same time making sure to reveal as little of themselves as possible. Angelo sized up the royal elf as he sat behind his desk. King Ulard was indeed an impressive sight to behold. Clothed in fine armor and satin and nearly as tall as the door he just walked through, King Ulard seemed great in both stature and refinement. Yet his magnificent display could not hide his evil aura from Angelo. Angelo leaned back and casually crossed his left leg over his right one. To someone looking at him he might have seemed to be relaxing. But the truth is that Angelo's move of crossing his leg brought the rapier hanging at his side just a little closer to his hand. To Angelo, the sinister vibes emanating from King Ulard were as thick as the hide of a diemon, and he wanted to be ready in case this royal elf tried something.

"You have seen elves before, haven't you?", King Ulard asked Angelo, breaking the silence between them.

Angelo raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?", he asked.

King Ulard chuckled in response. "Please forgive me. I did not mean to seem rude. It's just that your men seemed so shocked at me and my company's presence, yet you act so calm and composed. It's almost as if being visited by elven royalty is the norm for you."

Angelo shrugged. "Well, I _have_ mingled with an elf or two on my former travels", he admitted.

"Ah, yes. I've heard all about your travels", King Ulard said eagerly. 'The tales about how you and your friends defeated the dark lord Rhapthorne and brought peace to our world have reached even _my_ kingdom. It is indeed a great honor meeting you, Abbot Angelo."

_He's really putting it on_, Angelo thought to himself. He then cleared his throat and waved his hand to a chair stationed just in front of his desk. "I humbly thank you, your majesty. But I'm sure you didn't travel all this way just to flatter me. Please, have a seat and tell me what brings you to Maella Abbey."

The king nodded and took a seat. "Well, I suppose it _is_ time I got straight to the point", he said with a deep sigh. "As you already know, I am a king of an elven kingdom. My country, Xhaidenia, is located a long ways away from here and is hidden from human sight by elven magic. In fact, only elves can even enter or leave the kingdom. I say, do you mind if I smoke?" Angelo shook his head and the king brought out a pipe and some pleasant-smelling herbs in a small bag from his pocket. He poured some of the herbs into the pipe. Then he struck a match, lit the pipe, and started puffing away. "Thank you", the king said. "It's a guilty pleasure of mine. It helps my nerves. Anyway, as you have no doubt already heard when my chancellor announced my presence, I am in a most dire situation that involves you as well."

"Me?", Angelo said quizzically. "How so?"

"All will be revealed as I tell you my tale", the king replied. "My troubles started a little over eighteen years ago. Before then I lived peacefully in my kingdom with my daughter and only child Princess Iyleanna. The rules and traditions of my kingdom strictly press that only a male child of the king can inherit the throne. Yet Iyleanna was the only child I had at the time, which automatically made her the undisputed heir to my kingdom, despite being female. So my daughter and I were happy for the first six years of her life, but then something happened that would change everything. My wife became pregnant with my second child. And nine months later my son, Faustus, was born. Since he was my first male child he automatically replaced my daughter as heir to the throne."

"Well Iyleanna was quite unhappy about that. She screamed, threw huge tantrums, and even threatened to kill the newborn prince unless she was named the future queen. Her rants and threats grew so severe that I had to have guards placed near the prince at all times, to make sure his older sibling did not harm him. That certainly didn't sit well with Iyleanna. She became depressed and resentful, and accused me and my wife of loving our son more than we loved her. Of course, that couldn't have been farther from the truth. The queen and I did everything in our power to try to help Iyleanna, but she just kept getting more and more depressed and kept slipping farther and farther away from us. The sudden and tragic death of my wife about one year after the prince's birth certainly didn't do much to help my troubled daughter."

The king paused to massage the bridge of his nose. "Anyway", he continued, "it was four days after the passing of the late queen that the situation reached its worst point. The chancellor had gone to the princess' room to fetch her for dinner, but then later returned to me in a panic to announce that she was no longer in her quarters. The only thing that was found of her was a note on her bed, written by her hand and stating that she was leaving Xhaidenia forever and never coming back. I sent guards to go look all through the castle to find Iyleanna and bring her to me immediately, but by then it appeared that she had already left the castle. I then sent my guards to search throughout my entire kingdom for her. After a whole day of searching turned up nothing, I surmised that she may have already made her way out of Xhaidenia and sent my most elite agents to the world beyond the borders of our kingdom to search for her. I told them not to return unless they were bringing my daughter with them."

King Ulard folded his hands under his chin and an anguished look came over his face. "I sat at home, waiting and hoping with all my heart that one of my agents would return soon with my daughter in tow. As a father, I wished I could be out there looking for her myself. But as a king, I knew that would not be possible. I had to stay in Xhaidenia to watch over my kingdom and lead my people. Plus I had a son to take care of. Time dragged on as I waited for news of my daughter. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. Before I knew it, all of Xhaidenia was celebrating Prince Faustus' eighteenth birthday, and I _still_ had no idea where Iyleanna was, or even whether or not she was still even alive at that point. Then, just one week ago and a few days after Faustus' birthday, one of my agents finally appeared before me with news about my daughter. It appears that while she was gone from Xhaidenia she had fallen in with the wrong crowd and become a thief. She was caught on some holy island trying to steal a diamond out of some statue made in the likeness of the goddess."

_He must be talking about the new statue of the goddess on the holy isle of Neos_, Angelo thought to himself. _So, his daughter actually tried to steal the huge diamond built into the statue? But that place is crawling with templar guards! Either this princess is incredibly ballsy or incredibly stupid._

"According to my agent", the king continued, "Iyleanna was quickly tried in a human court of justice for her crime and, shortly after that, she was sent to a prison called New Purgatory Island." The king paused to take another puff of his pipe before continuing on with his story. "After I heard that, I immediately made up my mind to go and get her and bring her back safely myself. I knew at Faustus' age he was old enough to travel, so I decided to bring him along. But first I had to ensure that I would be able to go there and gain custody of my daughter peaceably. So I first sent one of my messengers to go to New Purgatory Island and announce my imminent arrival and intentions to the warden. I'm not ashamed to say that I also sent with my messenger a huge bounty of gold and jewels with which to bribe the warden into giving me my daughter. Anything to have her back safe and sound."

As Angelo listened to the king, an uneasy feeling started creeping its way into his chest. _New Purgatory Island. That's where Marcello is_, he thought as an alarm started going off in his head. _Why do I have a strange feeling that somehow, in some way, this is going to involve him?_

"Well", King Ulard continued, "just hours after I sent the messenger, my son and I got into our royal vessel and set sail for the prison island, bringing only a couple of guard vessels in tow. Our ships go quite fast as they're driven through the seas by elf magic, so it only took us a little under a day to finally get there. Unfortunately, our arrival was not only met with deep disappointment, but also a horrific scene unlike any I could imagine."

Upon hearing that, Angelo felt his heart grow heavy. _Here it comes_, he thought with dread.

"Upon our arrival, as soon as I and my company set foot on the sands of the island, we were greeted by a most gruesome sight. Dead bodies, littering the beach as far as my eyes could see. The torn, bloodied corpses of guards and prisoners alike; scattered all over the land and being feasted upon by the seagulls. Everywhere I turned, all I could see was death. Not knowing what was going on and terrified for my daughter, I ran inside the front gates of the prison without even waiting for my guards. But when I got inside I just saw more of the same terrible sight. Corpses everywhere. More guards and prisoners, all laying there dead on the ground. I immediately suspected that this must be the aftermath of a prison break gone horrifically wrong, and I began looking around the prison for any sign of Iyleanna and praying to the goddess with all my heart that I would not find her amongst the no longer living."

The king paused when he saw the expression of deep distress on Angelo's face and almost smiled. "Yes, I know what you're thinking right now. You're worried for your brother's welfare, yes?" The king came even closer to smiling when he saw Angelo's face display as expression of genuine surprise. "Do forgive me", he said to Angelo in an apologetic tone. "I don't mean to meddle in affairs where I don't belong, but I _did_ find out quite a bit about your brother Marcello while I was at the prison, among other things. In fact, your brother is the one thing that ties you to my problem. Just please bear with me and you will understand. Anyway, it didn't take long for my guards to finally catch up to me on the main floor of the prison. When they did I immediately told them to split up and search every inch of the prison for any sign of Iyleanna, leaving no room unsearched and no stone unturned. When we split up, the first room I immediately went into was the warden's quarters. There, I found the warden lying dead across his desk. I searched his room, trying to find a record of which cell Iyleanna was being held in. But alas, no such luck. I _did_, however, happen across this note that that I found in the first drawer of his desk." King Ulard reached forward and laid a piece of paper on Angelo's desk. "I'm quite certain it was written by your hand. It asks about the current welfare of the infamous Marcello, as well as mentions a certain monthly payment of gold from you to the warden as long as your brother was well taken care of during his stay at New Purgatory."

Angelo picked up the note and read it. Indeed, it was the letter he'd written to the warden just days ago. "Yes, I did write this letter", he told the king.

"I thought as much", King Ulard replied. "Well, after I found the letter, one of my knights approached me with some news. It turns out that my soldiers had found and captured a couple of surviving prisoners on the west side of the beach trying to escape from the island by attaching two wooden doors together as some sort of flotation device. I followed my knights out of the prison to the place where the prisoners were being detained by my guards and demanded that the two criminals tell me what happened on the island. It didn't take much prodding from me to get the two convicts to spill the beans. It turns out there was indeed a prison riot. It also appears it was all thanks to my daughter and a certain someone else. From what the prisoners told me, my daughter and her accomplice somehow escaped from their cells and tripped the emergency release lever in the bowels of the prison, which simultaneously opened all of the prison cells in New Purgatory. It was most likely done to create a diversion so that they could escape."

"Unfortunately, their actions did not only create a diversion, but also a massacre. The battle that occurred between the guards and the prisoners must have been horrific indeed. Only a few prisoners escaped with their lives, and the two prisoners said that many of them were seriously injured. And it appears that none of the guards made it. Not even the warden. As for my daughter and her accomplice, they ran away to the southern part of the island and disappeared, leaving no trace of themselves whatsoever. One of the prisoners told me that it was likely they escaped by stealing the warden's personal yacht. After they told me all these things I ordered my guards to let them go. After all, they were no longer my concern. My only concern was for my daughter. I then lit upon an idea. I decided to come here to Maella Abbey and ask for the help of the templars in searching for Iyleanna and bringing her home safely. And so, here I am before you."

Angelo sat there for a moment after listening to the king's tale, pondering over everything he'd just heard. He then looked the king square in his eyes. "This 'accomplice' you speak of, the one you said was alleged to have escaped from New Purgatory with your daughter, would you happen to have an idea of whom it was?"

King Ulard gave Angelo a small smile before replying, "Yes, I do. The prisoners I interrogated did happen to give me a name."

"What name?", Angelo asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"I'll give you three guesses", was the king's reply. Angelo sighed and started looking at the letter in his hand again. _So, my earlier predictions were right. Marcello is involved. Oh well, at least I know he's alive._

"That is why I have come to you for help", the king said desperately. "I know you must be almost as worried for your brother as I am for my daughter. So I figured it might be a good idea for us to join forces and work together in order to bring our estranged relatives back to us safely. You lend me the power of your templar knights and I will lend you the strength of my elven soldiers. I'm sure together we would have a better chance of finding both my prodigal daughter and Marcello than we would have if we worked separately. What do you say?"

Angelo stroked his chin as he mulled over the king's request for a moment. To be honest, it didn't seem like a bad idea at all. With the power of the king's men and his own templars combined, finding and subduing both Marcello and the king's daughter might turn out to be a piece of cake. Still, there was just something about the king; something dark and dishonest about his overall aura. After a moment of thought, Angelo addressed the king. "Your majesty? Do you mind if I have a few moments alone with my templar captain so I can discuss the situation with him?"

"Of course", the king replied as he rose up from his seat. "I have to go and speak with my son as well." The king gave a small, polite nod. "I do hope you'll consider my request. I don't know much about the world outside of my kingdom, so having a human ally is really the only way I'll stand a ghost of a chance of finding my daughter. And of course, quid pro quo, my men and I will be happy to assist you in finding your brother. You scratch my back, and I will scratch yours." King Ulard turned and walked to the door. He opened it and walked past Captain Bathos, who had been standing guard outside of Angelo's office, and descended the stairs leading down to the main floor of the Templars' quarters. As he reached the bottom of the stairs and neared the door leading outside to the courtyard, he began to rub the bridge of his nose. He was tired. Tired of dealing with humans, tired of trying to find and capture his wayward daughter; he was just weary of this whole damned situation. He exited through the big doors of the entrance to the Templars' quarters and saw his son and two elven guards standing in front of the square fountain in the center of the courtyard. When Prince Faustus saw his father walking towards him he huffed exasperatedly.

"Well! It's about time!", Faustus complained. "I was beginning to wonder if that filthy human hadn't swallowed you whole! So, what did he say? Did he agree to our little request? Hm?"

King Ulard folded his arms and looked down at his son. "I'm not entirely sure what all was going on in the Abbot's mind", he replied in a thoughtful tone. "He seemed concerned enough that his brother and my daughter had escaped from prison and are now on the lam together, and yet there was a certain… _wariness_ about his attitude. Almost as if he was suspicious of me."

"Suspicious? Surely he wasn't able to see through your little story about Iyleanna, was he?", Faustus asked in a concerned voice.

"No, I don't think he knew I was lying to him. Still, he could probably sense I wasn't being completely truthful. I have a feeling the abbot is smarter than your average human." The king shrugged. "Ah well. No matter. Whether he trusts me or not, that doesn't change the fact that Marcello is running loose as an escaped convict. The abbot will most likely want to do his best to find and detain him, and I have a feeling that where he finds Marcello, so too will he find Iyleanna. And one way or another, I plan to be there when he does, so I can finally retain my property." The king flexed and popped the knuckles on his fingers and a twisted grin appeared on his face. "That little trollop Iyleanna is going to pay dearly for the pain and embarrassment she's caused me over these many years. Mark my words, I _will_ catch her. And no one's going to get in my way. Not Marcello, not the abbot, not even the Templar Knights. I _will_ reclaim what's mine."

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

"I trust you were listening to my conversation with the king while you were standing guard at the door", Abbot Angelo said as Captain Bathos entered his office.

"Yes sir", Bathos replied, shutting the door behind him.

"So, captain, what do you think about him?", Angelo inquired.

"Hm? Oh, the king. Well…" Bathos scratched his chin thoughtfully. "He seems like a fine and honorable nobleman. No doubt he's greatly concerned for his daughter's welfare, as any father would be."

Angelo smiled. "Okay, now tell me what you _really_ think about him."

Bathos chuckled lightly. "You can read me like a book, eh abbot? Well, to tell the truth, there seems to be something dark and unsafe about him. On the surface he seems charming enough. But the vibes I'm feeling from his aura are as cold and dark as a shadow in a blizzard."

Angelo clasped his hands. "Well _said_, Bathos", he said with a nod of approval. "That's why I made you the templar captain. You have great instincts." Angelo stood up and started pacing the floor in front of his desk. "Unfortunately, my instincts are also telling me he wasn't exactly lying when he said that Marcello had escaped from New Purgatory Island. And if it's true that Marcello is indeed out there and at large with a fugitive elven princess, then we may have no choice but to work with the king and help him find his daughter if we're to hope of ever recapturing Marcello. Still…" Angelo stood still for a moment, deep in thought. He then walked over to Bathos and put a hand on his shoulder. "Captain, listen to me", he said in a low and urgent voice. "I need you to do me a favor. I want you and a small group of your most skilled and trusted men to wait until dark tonight and slip out of the abbey and go to Peregrin Quay. Once there, take my boat, Empyria's Wing, and sail to New Purgatory Island. I want you to investigate there and see how much of the truth the good king has been telling me. I shall tell King Ulard that I agree to his request and start gathering men for the mission of finding Marcello and the elf princess. However, if he has been lying to me, I may be using my men to detain the king and his soldiers and force him to tell me the truth. This is why I want you to return with your report as quickly as you possibly can. Understood?"

Bathos stood straight and firmly saluted the abbot in reply, then turned and left Angelo's office. Angelo began to stroke his chin, his mind troubled with worry. If Marcello was indeed free, that would only spell trouble for him and many others. His older brother was known for his ability to hold a grudge and not making empty threats. And Marcello had already sworn to kill many people in his thirst for power and vengeance; Angelo and Lord High Priest Rolo included. Angelo knew he had to find and stop Marcello quickly before he grew too powerful to be stopped. Otherwise, his brother's enemies may end up sharing the same fate that the leader of the Blood Shadow gang suffered at Marcello's hands not too long ago. With renewed determination, Angelo walked out of his office and went to address the king.

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

"Whoa! Did you guys catch all that?", Ethan said excitedly as he looked up from the spy holes at Ebert and Erica. "Marcello's on the loose! And he's runnin' around with some elf princess!"

"We _heard_, Ethan. We were listening too, you know", Erica said, rolling her eyes. "I guess the abbot's going to go help the king look for his daughter _and_ find Marcello at the same time. Talk about killing two birds with one stone. Still, there was something sinister about the king. Something I can't quite put my finger on…"

"Aw, you're just saying that 'cause your _boyfriend_ said it", Ethan retorted with a snort.

"I am _not_", Erica said hotly, her cheeks growing red. "And for the last time, stop calling him my boyfriend."

Ebert said nothing. He just sat there silently, a huge grin plastered on his face and a twinkle in both eyes. Erica noticed his expression and looked at him with reprimand. "I know that look", she scolded. "That's your trademark 'I'm gonna go do something extremely dangerous and stupid' look. Whatever you're thinking, for_get_ it. Don't you think you're in enough trouble, already?"

Ebert didn't respond. Instead, his mind began formulating his most brilliant idea yet. The goddess had just blessed him with yet another opportunity to prove to Abbot Angelo that he had what it takes to be a great Templar Knight. And he's be damned if he let it go to waste.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Dragon Quest VIII  
Kingdom of the Elves**

by: Amisha Smith

_Alright! For the past few months I've been taking classes at Devry University in the Gaming and Simulation Program, and guess what? I just finished all of my first four classes with a high A! Not only that, my online coach told me that she was going to try to get me an internship at **SquareEnix!** Yay me! Oh yeah, I'll be creating kick-ass RPGs before you know it! Anyway, now that this semester's almost over I've got some time on my hands to get the next chapter in this fanfic of mine done. So let me get this chapter up before I have to take my finals. Yeesh._

**Chapter Seven**

"You're worthless, you hear me? You're the most pathetic person that ever existed!"

Marcello stood silently with his head hanging low and his heart weighed down with sadness and despair as the young boy standing in front of him berated him mercilessly. He knew that once again he was having the same recurring nightmare he'd always had for years since the day his mother died. Every time he fell asleep the terrible dream would always come to him without fail, forcing him to relive through his subconscious the day his mother passed away. Right now he was going through the worst part of the dream; the part in which his mother had just finished dying and his younger self would confront him with anger and contempt for not having done anything to save her when she needed him the most.

"You miserable lowlife!", the boy continued to verbally abuse Marcello. "She was always there for you, even when she started to get sick! And what do you do to repay her? You _abandon_ her! You left her while she was still _dying_! You scum."

"I… I'm so sorry", Marcello said in a weak voice, unfallen tears hanging from his eyes. "I… I just didn't know what to do."

"You didn't know what to _do_?", the boy yelled angrily. "You call that an _excuse_? You miserable worm." The boy then turned his back on Marcello and folded his arms. "You haven't even avenged her death, have you? You don't even care enough to do that."

"That's not true!", Marcello sobbed desperately. "I _do_ want to avenge her! I tried! I'm _still_ trying!"

"You're still failing as well", the boy growled in an acid voice. "I swear, you are absolutely useless! There are no results in just trying, there are only results in _success_!"

"I... I almost succeeded", Marcello pleaded. "I was so _close_. But then…"

"But then you allowed yourself to be defeated", the boy finished Marcello's sentence with a snort of contempt. "And by that snot-nosed, wet behind the ears brother of yours, no less. And as if _that_ wasn't bad enough, then you allowed the bastard to save your _life_. You should have gripped his hand and pulled back with all your might so that both you and your brother would fall off the cliff to your deaths. At least you would be taking some small measure of revenge with you to your grave. It's not like you're worth anything alive. Right now, you're nothing more than a living, breathing failure; an embarrassment to your mother's name. To be truthful, she'd have been better off if you had never been conceived."

That was it. That was all Marcello could stand. He turned and retreated from the room which his dead mother and bitter younger self occupied, tears now freely falling from his cheeks as he walked away. He just couldn't take any more. He knew he was a failure. He knew that his very existence had ruined his mother's life and, ultimately, sent her to her grave. He knew that he'd once been close to realizing his dream of changing the world so that no noble could ever do what had been done to him to another living person, and he knew that his goal was suddenly snatched from beyond his grasp by his meddling brother Angelo and his friends. But to listen to the cruel words of his younger self verbally and maliciously assaulting him over and over with these facts was just too much for him to bear.

"You can run, but you can't hide from the truth!", he heard the voice of his younger self call from behind him in a distant, hollow voice. "You're a failure! And you will continue to be a failure until you produce results, you hear me? Results!"

Marcello began to walk faster, but he wasn't really sure if he was going anywhere. The entire space around him, even the ground itself, seemed to have melted away, leaving nothing but a dark void in its place. Suddenly, weary of the anguish he was enduring, he broke out into a run. He was desperate to find an escape from this dream, desperate to leave the angry voice of his younger self behind. After another long minute of running he fell to his hands and knees and closed his eyes. _Wake up, Marcello. Wake up_, he kept repeating to himself over and over. He desperately wanted this nightmare to end. _Wake up, Marcello. Please wake up. Wake up…_

* * *

Marcello's eyes snapped open and he sat up with a gasp. His breathing rate and his pulse were accelerated, just as they always were whenever he woke up from having that same awful dream. He reached up, wiped the sweat from his brow, and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He was thankful that the nightmare was over now, at least until the next time he fell asleep. Once he had collected himself he took the time to look around and observe his surroundings. He was sitting on top of the green spread on one of the six small springy beds in a dingy, moss-filled room. The walls of the room were made of cold hard brick which had a few holes in them thanks to moistness and wet mildew slowly eating away at the stone. A somewhat tattered piece of scarlet tapestry with a crest in the shape of a skeletal dragon encircling a sword hung just below a pile of cobwebs on the far end of the wall.

Marcello stood up off the bed and stretched his legs. As he breathed in the air around him he noticed a familiar breezy, mist-like scent hanging in the air, and the atmosphere had a small bit of a chilly bite to it. _Hm. I must be near the ocean_, he thought to himself. He then took another look around, wondering where he was. _How did I even get here? The last thing I remember was killing that sea dragon, and then I crashed into the boat, and then… Hm, I must have been knocked out by the impact. Did Iylea bring me here? Where is that annoying girl anyway?_ Suddenly he heard voices coming from beyond the wooden door at the end of the room. He recognized one of the voices to be Iylea's, but he had no idea who the other people she was talking to were. He walked over to the door and opened it, and walked into a room that was only slightly bigger than the one he woke up in and might have been a small dining hall. In the middle of the room were six semi-long wooden tables lined side by side, and weapons racks full of rusty and ancient looking axes and swords lined the walls. And standing just a few feet away from the door he just walked through, along with three other people whom Marcello didn't recognize, was Iylea. One of the people she was talking to was a young woman who looked about her age with brown hair and wearing a skimpy-looking skirt and blouse uniform. The other two people were a couple of young men with red hair; one of them was lean and wore a brown leather jacket over a white shirt and jeans that seemed almost too big for him, the other was somewhat chubby and wore goggles on his head, a pair of black knee-length pants, and a tropical shirt that seemed to be decorated with images of every kind of colorful flower in the world. Neither Iylea nor the people she was talking to had noticed him yet, as they were deep in conversation.

"Seriously, you guys! I'm telling you the truth!", Iylea was telling the three people desperately. "Marcello and I kicked that giant sea dragon's butt! At first it looked like it had us on the ropes, but then we turned the tables on it! We totally _owned_ it's ass!"

"Yeah right, Iylea", the chubby one said with a smirk. "The only thing _you_ own is the world's record for telling the most bullcrap stories."

"Yeah, really", the other young man said with a laugh. "Look, I've heard about how tough and powerful this Marcello bloke is, but for heaven's sake! Just recently a whole ship of knights went out to deal with that sea dragon, and not only did they fail, but only about half of them came back alive! And here you are trying to tell us that it took only you and Marcello to send this beast to Davey Jones' locker. And I guess we're just supposed to be stupid enough to believe that."

"Aw forget you guys", Iylea pouted. She turned to the brown-haired girl. "_You_ believe me, right Chloe?"

"Gimme a break", the chubby one said, rolling his eyes. "Of _course_ Chloe's gonna side with you. She's your friend."

"Well Abner, if you really think about it, Iylea's story does hold a lot of water", the girl responded. "For one, you and Hewitt didn't even think she was telling the truth when she busted in here and told you that she had met Marcello. And you refused to believe her until I told you guys to come to my boat and help me carry him in here and you saw him with your own eyes. Now seeing as how she obviously wasn't lying about that, don't you think it would make sense for you to believe her about the sea dragon? Secondly, Iylea said that the sea dragon they had been doing battle against crashed into the boat they were on and destroyed it. And I _did_ happen to find Iylea and her newfound friend floating smack dab in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by debris of wood. And since it's very doubtful that they would have wound up all the way out there by _swimming_, it's only logical to conclude that they had a boat at one point in time."

"Ha! In your _face_!", Iylea crowed smugly. "See? Chloe knows I'm telling the truth!"

"Alright, alright", the lean boy said in an irritated and defeated voice. "So I'll admit that they probably were attacked by the sea dragon. And maybe it's even true that the sea dragon is now dead. But I'll bet it was really Marcello doing all the fighting. Especially since Iylea here couldn't swing a sword to save her own life."

"Oh screw you, Hewitt", Iylea snapped. "You weren't even there, so what the hell do you know?"

"Hey guys, check it out!", the chubby one said excitedly while pointing a finger at Marcello. "He's finally awake!"

At that instant everyone turned and looked at Marcello, who had been standing in the doorway and silently studying the group. This was obviously the 'gang' Iylea had told him about while they were on the boat. After about a minute of scrutiny Marcello had already surmised that neither of the people Iylea was talking to was their gang leader, the man Iylea said was named Ashe.

"Hey, Marc!", Iylea crowed joyfully as she ran to Marcello's side and playfully linked her arm with his, finding yet another way to irritate Marcello. "It's about time you woke up! Come on, I want you to meet the gang!"

"Would you let go of me?", Marcello snapped irritably. "I don't have time for your foolishness. Where is your leader?"

"Yeah yeah, in a minute, Mr. Grumpy pants", Iylea said. "First things first! Let me introduce you to my buddies!" She pointed to the tall lean young man. "This is Hewitt, the, ahem, _second_ best thief in the gang after yours truly. Well don't just stand there, Hewitt. Say hi or wave or something." Hewitt just waved once at Marcello without saying a word. Marcello neither said or did anything to respond.

"And this", Iylea continued, pointing to the chubby young man wearing goggles, "is Abner. He's our official fix-it man. He can repair anything, and I mean _anything_. If it's broke, he can fix it." Abner offered his hand to shake with Marcello. Marcello didn't take it; he just glared back at him. With a gulp, Abner withdrew his hand.

"And over here", Iylea said pointing to the brown-haired girl, "is my best friend Chloe. She's the one who keeps record of all the treasure we've stolen in the vault. She's also the one who introduced me to the gang and got me in as a member." Chloe nodded politely at Marcello.

"Iylea, are you quite finished yet?", Marcello asked irritably.

"No, or course not! I have to introduce _you_ now", Iylea responded. She stepped back and dramatically waved her hand to present Marcello. "Guys, this is my new pal, the famous and one and only Marcello."

"I'm not your pal", Marcello growled.

"Oh, and by the way, _I'm_ the only one who can call him Marc", Iylea continued on proudly. "His name will always be Marcello to you guys."

"_And_ you", Marcello snapped at Iylea.

"Hmph. Not exactly the _friendly_ type, is he?", Chloe said with one raised eyebrow.

"Well can you blame him? Being around Iylea for more than five minutes is enough to put _anybody_ in a bad mood", Hewitt said jokingly.

"Aw, he always acts like that. But he's really cool", Iylea said. "He totally saved my butt. If it wasn't for him, I'd be nothing but bad breath on a sea dragon right now."

"Aha! So Marcello _did_ do most of the fighting against that sea dragon! I knew it!", Abner crowed triumphantly.

"No he didn't!", Iylea snapped indignantly. "Okay, well, maybe he did, but I helped out! Honest!" Iylea then proceeded to annoy and enrage Marcello by pulling on his arm. "Come on, Marc! You know I helped you take out that sea dragon! Say something! Back me up here!"

"Enough!", Marcello yelled as he snatched his arm out of Iylea's grasp. "I told you, I don't have time for this. I need to speak to your leader so that I can get this damn magic seal removed from my arm and be about my business. Now where is he?"

"He's right here", a gruff voice rumbled behind him. Marcello turned to see a large muscular man leaning against the wall, his arms folded and his eyes scrutinizing Marcello very studiously. He was wearing brown leather pants and a shirt and a pair of boots that looked to have been made out of some sort of animal's skin. His head was framed by long, wild brown hair that seemed to frizz out in every direction and looked filthy, but even the wildness of his hair did not surpass the wild look of his eyes, which looked cruel and had a predatory-like glare to them.

"Oh give me a break, Nyoko", Iylea said, rolling her eyes. "I don't even know why you would even _try_ to say that crap right in front of the rest of us." She then turned to address Marcello. "Marc, this guy is _not_ the leader of the gang. He just likes to pretend he is. Our leader's name is Ashe. _This_ guy is Nyoko, the second in command to Ashe. He's not as good a thief as Hewitt and I are, he can't fix anything like Abner can, and unlike Chloe he can't count past five. But he does have the smelliest armpits in the gang, so I guess he's the best at something."

"Shut yer cake-hole, Iylea", Nyoko growled threateningly at Iylea as he started walking towards the group. "Don't think that just 'cause Ashe favors you that I'm gonna take any crap from you. And don't think that you bein' an elf makes you so special I won't knock you on yer ass. Ashe ain't here to protect you now. You'd do well to remember that." He stopped right in front of Marcello and looked him up and down, sizing him up. "So, you're the famous Marcello, eh?", he said gruffly. "Hmph. You sure don't look like much. Anyway, Ashe ain't here. And when Ashe ain't here, that means _I'm_ the one in charge. So if it's the 'leader' yer lookin' for, ye've found him."

Marcello merely looked Nyoko up and down with calm disdain. "Good for you", he responded in a tone that revealed how clearly unimpressed he was. "Tell me, Mr. 'Leader', do you know how to remove a magic seal?"

"Wot if I did?", Nyoko said with a nasty smirk. "Wot would it be worth to ya?"

"Well, it really doesn't matter, seeing as how you _don't_ know how to remove a magic seal", Iylea said exasperatedly. "Seriously, do you always have to be such a jerk?"

"I thought I told you to shut the hell up", Nyoko snarled at Iylea in a menacing voice. "Don't test me, elf. I'm warnin' you."

"The name's not 'elf'. It's Iylea", Iylea responded hotly. "And you're not being very polite to our guest. I wonder what Ashe would say if he knew how rude you were being right now?"

"That's it. I'm gonna shut you up myself, ya stupid pointy-eared bimbo", Nyoko growled. He started advancing towards Iylea… and stopped in surprise when Marcello smoothly stepped right in his path, blocking his way.

"Now that's no way to talk to a lady, is it?", Marcello said in a quiet and chilly tone. The move surprised Nyoko so much that he actually took a couple of steps backward. "Did you leave your manners back at the pig trough you were born in?"

"Huh? Are you _challengin'_ me?", Nyoko asked, looking at Marcello as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Wot are you, daft or sumefin'? I'll skin you alive!"

It was at that instant that a tense silence fell over the entire group. Iylea and the rest of the gang stood and watched intently as Marcello and Nyoko faced off, silently staring each other down. They marveled in disbelief at the level of Nyoko's ignorance. Sure, he was strong, and not that many people they knew could stand up to him in a fight. But now he was facing off against Marcello, the very same man who killed the leader of the Blood Shadow gang. Lord Absom was once a powerful man who had been considered by many to be arguably the most dangerous man alive. But no more, as Marcello had easily taken that title by single-handedly reducing the dark wizard into nothing more than a murder victim. And now here was Nyoko, standing nose to nose with Marcello and actually trying to be _intimidating_. Everyone else there knew that for all the danger he was stupidly placing himself in, Nyoko might as well have run a sword through his own gullet and been done with it.

"Ah, Nyoko?", Abner said nervously, cutting into the silence. "Maybe you'd better just back off. Seriously."

"Wot? Me? Back down from this little minnow?", Nyoko sneered at Abner in response. "You hafta be joshin' me. Just stand back and watch how a real man does things." Nyoko then returned his attention to Marcello. "As for you, you fat piece of sow dung, you'd do well to mind yer own business. _I'm_ the boss 'round here, and how I choose to… _discipline_ my underlings ain't no concern of yers. Now move outta my way."

"You don't have any _underlings_ around here", Chloe snapped irritably. Nyoko had already gotten on her nerves. "Now why don't you back down and get your testosterone in check before you get annihilated?"

"Yeah, seriously", Iylea chimed in. "Do you even realize who you're messing with?"

**"Shut up! All of ya!"**, Nyoko yelled, getting angry. "I don't give a damn 'bout who this little punk is! And I don't care how strong everybody _thinks_ he is, either! I don't back down from nobody!" He then reached out and grabbed Marcello by his collar. "Now shift, skivvy!"

At that instant, an odd and overwhelming mixture of anger and delight exploded from Marcello's chest and reverberated throughout his entire body. He looked down at where Nyoko had foolishly grabbed him by his shirt, then up at Nyoko's face. Slowly his lips stretched into a cold and malicious grin…

* * *

Captain Bathos stood on the deck of Empyria's Wing and waited as his subordinate Templars prepared the ship for cast-off. As instructed by Abbot Angelo, Bathos had only brought along a few of his most trusted men; enough to make their group a formidable force but just small enough so that they will escape wide notice. Pretty soon he would set sail for New Purgatory Island, on his way to carry out the most important mission the abbot had ever given him during his career as Templar Captain. Bathos knew how crucial this matter was to the abbot. And he knew why, too. If the tales the elf king Ulard told the abbot were true and the abbot's brother was indeed free and out there running loose, then that would mean that anyone who had ever crossed Marcello at one time or another could be in mortal danger, Abbot Angelo and Lord High Priest Rolo included. That's why the abbot wanted Bathos to sail to the prison island, confirm with his own eyes whether or not King Ulard had been telling the truth, and sail back and give his report as quickly as possible. If Marcello was truly on the lam, Angelo did not want any more time than necessary to go by before he started the hunt for his dangerous brother. 

One of Bathos' men ran up to him and saluted. "Captain, preparations are finished. We are ready to depart anytime, sir", he said.

"Good. Weigh anchor. We set sail immediately", Bathos responded.

The templar saluted again and went to relay the message. Moments later Empyria's Wing was sailing off into the deep blue sea, on its way to New Purgatory Island. Bathos stood dutifully at the helm and gazed off into the horizon. Soon he would reach the infamous prison and see for himself whether or not King Ulard had been telling the truth to the abbot. He really hoped with all his heart that the mysterious elf king had been lying. Because if he hadn't, then Bathos knew he was in for one horrific scene when he reached his destination.

* * *

Nyoko cried out in pain as his spine and the back of his head hit the brick wall behind him at full force. He fell to his knees, struggling for breath and clutching his abdomen where Marcello had brutally kicked him. He looked up to see Marcello standing in front of him, still grinning in malicious delight. "You… you _bastard_", he growled as he rose slowly off the ground, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "You'll pay for that." Iylea, Chloe, Hewitt and Abner were gathered around them in a circle, watching the lopsided fight between Marcello and Nyoko. Iylea was cheering Marcello on like a fourth grader watching a schoolyard tussle at recess. Even Hewitt and Abner, who at first had no desire to see any bloodshed, now seemed to have lost all their nervousness as they egged on the fight with loud cheers. Only Chloe, who stood there with her arms folded as she shook her head and glared at the two fighting men, seemed displeased with the situation. 

"Yeah! Get him, Marc! Show that bitch what he's made of!", Iylea crowed delightedly from the sidelines.

"Holy crap! Did you see how hard Nyoko hit that wall?", Hewitt said in wonder.

"Yeah! I think I heard an echo!", Abner replied with a laugh. "It's a wonder he's still conscious! Hey, I got two bucks that says Marcello wins! Any takers?"

"Yeah, right. Like anyone's stupid enough to bet on Nyoko winning", Hewitt retorted. "No thanks. You're not getting _my_ two bucks that easily."

Nyoko growled as he glared hatefully at Marcello, who merely stood there grinning back at him. "You're a dead man", he snarled, shaking with barely-contained rage. "Nobody, and I do mean _nobody_, walks up in this hideout and disrespects me." With that, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a switch blade. With a flick of his wrist, the blade came out with a snap.

"Oh geez", Hewitt and Abner said in unison, getting nervous again.

"Alright, this has gone on long enough", Chloe said in a sharp and angry voice. "Will the both of you please stop the macho bullcrap before somebody gets hurt?"

"He ain't just gonna get _hurt_", Nyoko said as he looked at Marcello with bloodlust in his eyes. "He's about to get _dead_." Nyoko started to advance towards Marcello, who's smile hadn't faltered one bit. He just continued to stand there and grin at Nyoko, an almost polite interest in his eyes. Marcello's impudent calmness seemed to enrage Nyoko. "Let's jes see how cocky you are with all yer innards layin' on the floor", he almost yelled.

"Hold it right there, Nyoko", Iylea said as she suddenly stepped quickly in front of Nyoko, blocking his way. "No fair using knives. Just because you're getting your ass handed to you in a fair fight doesn't give you the right to pull a weapon. Now why don't you back off, you big dipsh…"

**"Get the hell outta my way!"**, Nyoko roared as he swept his arm in a wide sweeping arc, catching Iylea with a brutal backhand and sending her spinning as she fell to the ground. At that very instant, everything seemed to move in slow motion for Marcello. His face grew red-hot and the metallic taste of his own blood filled his mouth as his anger instantly morphed into unbridled rage. With a flash and before he even knew that he was moving, his arm snaked out with blinding speed as he grabbed Nyoko's wrist. Two small, hollow cracks could be heard as Marcello swiftly twisted his hand right and then left. Nyoko howled in agony and dropped the switchblade as he pulled back, trying to liberate his now-broken wrist from Marcello's grasp. But Marcello wasn't letting Nyoko off so easily. He yanked Nyoko towards him as he stuck out his knee, catching the foolish thug right under his ribs and forcing the wind out of him. Nyoko didn't even have time to gasp in pain before Marcello brought his leg up and kicked Nyoko square in his face so hard the echo of the impact between Marcello's boot and Nyoko's forehead sounded throughout the room. Nyoko went cart wheeling backwards and was already unconscious before the back of his body hit the brick wall behind him and he slumped to the floor.

Marcello stood there and stared at him, wondering if it would be worth his while to finish the fool off while he was down. After a few seconds he decided Nyoko probably wasn't even worth the half-second it would take to murder him and turned his back on his unconscious victim, and found himself looking at the expression of awe on Iylea's face and the expressions of alarm on the faces of Chloe, Hewitt, and Abner.

Iylea got up off the ground, dusted herself off, and grinned at Marcello. "Alright! You _go_, Marc!", she said, clearly impressed and appreciated with how quickly and skillfully Marcello dealt with Nyoko. The rest of the gang, however, were clearly unprepared for the show of utter brutality they had witnessed, as they kept looking back and forth between Marcello and Nyoko's bloodied, senseless form. Before anyone else could say anything the sound of clapping was suddenly heard coming from the entrance to the room. Everyone, including Marcello, turned and looked to see a man standing in the doorway of the room clapping his hands. The man was almost as tall as Nyoko. He had long blonde hair, keen ice-blue eyes, and wore a tan, sleeveless shirt and a plain-looking pair of blue pants. He wore no shirt under the first one, showing off his well-muscled arms and hardened chest. He wore a black leather belt, and at is side hung a scabbard from which jutted the fancy-looking hilt of a rapier. The man studied Marcello with his shrewd eyes very carefully.

"Very impressive", the man said in a tone full of authority as he finally stopped clapping. "I must say, it's not every day I meet somebody capable of beating the crap out of someone like Nyoko. Of course, considering who you _are_, I'd have been surprised if you _weren't_ able to totally kick Nyoko's ass.."

"Who are you?", Marcello asked, studying the man as carefully as the man was studying him.

"Hey, boss! How've ya been!", Abner suddenly called out cheerfully. The nervousness that was on his face after he witnessed Marcello's brutal performance a moment earlier was not at all present in his voice as he happily greeted the strange blonde man.

"Boss! It's great to see ya!", Iylea chimed in, just as cheerfully. She then turned to Marcello. "Marc, this is Ashe. The guy I told you about."

"I told you _not to call me Marc_", Marcello growled through his teeth at Iylea. He then turned to address the blonde man. "So, you are Ashe, the leader of this 'gang'."

"Guilty as charged", Ashe replied with an exaggerated, sweeping bow. "And I must say, it's an honor to meet _you_, Marcello."


End file.
